UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


STANDARD    LITERATURE   SERIES 


POEMS  OF 
KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE 


SELECTED  AND   EDITED 
WITH  AN   INTRODUCTION  AND   NOTES 

BY 

EDWARD    EVERETT    HALE,  Jr.,   Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  RHETORIC  AND  LOGIC,  UNION  COLLEGE 


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PREFATORY   NOTE. 

In  this  volume  have  been  brought  together  four  poems  of 
^  knightly  adventure.  In  Gareth  and  Lynette  we  have  Tenny- 
son's idealization  of  the  knight  of  chivalry;  in  Sohrab  and 
Rustum  we  have  the  Persian  hero  ;  Horatius  is  the  type  of  the 
old  Roman  of  the  Republic  ;  in  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal 
Lowell  has  expressed  a  modern  conception  of  knightliness.  The 
poems  are  worth  reading  together. 

They  are  also  worth  comparing  in  the  matter  of  poetic  style. 
The  particular  point  of  style  here  discussed  is  Figurative  Language. 
Other  volumes  in  this  series  deal  with  Poetic  Diction  and  Metre, 
but  short  notes  on  those  topics  are  given  here.  These  discussions 
j  of  style  may,  in  parts,  perhaps  be  thought  too  difficult  for  pupils  ; 
but  there  is  nothing  that  the  teacher  cannot  understand  and  ex- 
plain. It  is  generally  better  to  make  the  pupil  use  his  intelligence 
to  the  uttermost  than  to  simplify  a  matter  for  easy  comprehension, 
and  in  so  doing  drain  all  the  real  sense  out  of  it. 

Edward  E.  Hale,  Jr. 
Union  College. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Prefatory  Note 3 

Introduction 5 

Biographical   Sketches 5 

Introductions  to  the  Poems 9 

Figures  of  Speech 14 

Metre ....  25 

Diction 29 

POEMS  OP  KNIGHTLY  ADVENTUKR 

Garetii  and  Lvnette 35 

Sohrab  AND  Rustum 84 

Horatius 112 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal         .        .        ...        .        .        .  136 


INTRODUCTION. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES. 

Tennyson. — The  life  of  Tennyson,  like  that  of  many  poets, 
was  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word  uneventful.  To  one  who 
knows  the  poet's  work  a  recital  of  his  books  and  their  times  of 
publishing  would  indicate  the  growth  of  the  poet's  mind  and 
artistic  power,  but  the  ordinary  reader  will  not  see  their  signifi- 
cance. Still,  a  record  of  names  and  dates  will  be  convenient  for 
reference,  if  nothing  more. 

Alfred  Tennyson  was  born  August  6, 1809,  at  Somerby  Rectory, 
Lincolnshire.  His  father,  himself  something  of  a  poet  and  an 
artist,  was  the  village  rector.  Of  his  brothers,  Frederick  and 
Charles  had  also  the  poetic  gift.  Alfred  received  his  university 
preparation  from  his  father,  and  in  1828  went  to  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.  He  had  already,  with  his  brother  Charles,  published 
a  volume  entitled  Poems  by  Two  Brothers,  and  in  the  university 
he  won  the  Chancellor's  Medal  for  the  best  English  poem. 

His  first  volume  was  published  in  1830  :  it  was  called  Poems, 
Chiefly  Lyrical.  In  it  we  can  now  recognize  Tennyson's  quali- 
ties ;  but  it  was  not  till  his  second  collection,  Poems  (1832),  that  we 
have  any  of  his  well-known  woi'k.  His  poems  were  rather 
sharply  criticised  in  some  quarters  as  being  effeminate  and  senti- 
mental, but  he  had  made  a  name  for  himself  as  a  poet  of  exqui- 
site workmanship  and  remarkable  power  of  melodious  effect.  In 
1842  came  another  volume,  containing  many  well-known  poems, 
and  in  1847  The  Princess :  a  Medley.  In  1850,  on  the  death  of 
Wordsworth,  he  was  already  so  highly  esteemed  as  to  be  appointed 
Poet  Laureate.  In  the  same  year  he  published  In  Memoriam,  in 
1855  Maud,  and  in  1864  Enoch  Arden. 

In  1859  he  published  four  poems  entitled  Idylls  of  the  King. 
They  were  independent  poems,  and  yet  each  dealt  with  the  same 
group  of  characters,  the  knights  and  ladies  of  the  court  of  King 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

Arthur.  To  these  four  poems,  Tennyson  in  the  next  twenty-five 
years  added  others  (seep.  10),  intended  each  to  take  a  definite  place 
in  the  completed  poem  which  constitutes  his  greatest  work. 
Gareth  and  Lynette  stands  first  of  the  poems  after  the  introduc- 
tion, hut  it  was  published  in  1872,  next  to  the  last.1 

The  chief  works  of  the  poet's  later  years  were  di'amas.  In  these 
he  was  not  so  successful  as  in  his  earlier  poems;  but  some  of  his 
later  lyric  poetry,  in  Tiresias  (1886),  Locksley  Hall  Sixty  Years 
After  (1886),  and  Demeter  and  Other  Poems  (1889),  has  been 
thought  to  show  his  old  mastery. 

Matthew  Arnold. — Thomas  Arnold  was  the  famous  head 
master  of  Rugby,  one  of  the  great  English  public  schools. 
Matthew  Arnold,  born  at  Laleham,  December  24,  1822,  some  few 
years  before  his  father  was  called  to  Rugby,  was  therefore  edu- 
cated under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  of  his  time.  He 
passed  a  year  at  Winchester,  and  then  four  at  Rugby,  and  took 
his  degree  at  Oxford  in  1844.  He  was  a  distinguished  student,  and 
before  going  up  to  the  university  he  gained  a,  Balliol  scholarship  ; 
at  Oxford  he  became  distinguished  for  his  literature,  and  gained 
the  Newdigate  Prize  for  the  best  poem,  as  Tennyson  had  gained 
the  Chancellor's  Medal  at  Cambridge  some  years  before.  To 
Education  in  its  broader  sense  and  to  Literature,  Matthew  Arnold's 
life  was  devoted.  In  1851  be  was  appointed  one  of  the  Inspectors 
of  Schools,  an  office  which  he  held  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  working 
to  improve  the  schools  of  England  directly,  and  also  examining 
the  educational  systems  of  other  countries.  But  he  also  devoted 
himself  to  what  we  may  call  Education  in  its  broader  sense,  for 
his  books  and  essays  had  always  the  aim  of  arousing  and  stimu- 
lating a  higher  and  liner  intellectual  tone  in  England. 

His  first  devotion,  however,  was  poetry.  His  first  volume.  The 
Strayed  Reveller  and  Other  Poems,  was  published  in  1848,  a  few 

years  after  his   leaving  the   university  :  the  second,  Empedocles 

on  Etna  and  Other  Poems,  in  1n">2.  Sohrab  and  Rustum 
appeared  first  in  Poem*  .  <i  Xeic  Edition,  1853.  Matthew  Arnold 
was  a  poet  of  very  exquisite  and  distinguished  character  :  we  shall 
sec  later  some  of  the  fine  qualities  of  his  work.  His  poetry  is 
appreciated  and  cared  for  by  such  as  know  the  best;  but  he  exerts 
his  widest  influence  in  his  prose. 

1  Balin  and  Btiluii,  the  last  1 1885),  is  not  found  in  earlier  editions  of  the  Idylls. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCHES.  7 

It  was  not  for  ten  years  and  more  after  he  had  become  known 
as  a  poet  that  Matthew  Arnold  found  what  we  may  call  his  true 
or  his  chief  vocation,  that  of  the  critic  of  literature.  In  1857  he 
was  elected  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  and  in  1861  and  1862 
he  published  his  lectures  On  Translating  Homer.  From  that 
time  on  he  constantly  wrote  and  published  books  and  essays  on 
a  considerable  range  of  subjects,  but  all  tending  toward  the  arous- 
ing a  better  intellectual  feeling  in  the  life  of  England,  literai*y, 
religious  and  political.  Matthew  Arnold  has  been  a  great  influ- 
ence in  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  :  besides  Carlyle 
and  Ruskin,  no  contemporary  man  of  letters  has  exerted  such  a 
power  on  men's  thoughts. 

Macaulay. — Thomas  Babington  Macaulay  is  probably  more 
often  thought  of  as  a  brilliant  essayist  than  as  a  poet.  Yet  we 
must  remember  that  he  was  also  a  historian,  an  orator,  a  poli- 
tician, an  administrator — in  fact  a  man  of  immense  intellectual 
power,  whose  energy  took  various  forms.  His  poems  have  excel- 
lences of  which  we  shall  learn  later,  but  they  are  not  his  chief 
work. 

He  was  born  November  26,  1800,  and  died  December  28,  1859. 
He  was  a  precocious  child,  remarkable  for  inordinate  love  of 
reading  and  for  his  immense  memory.  These  characteristics 
remained  with  him  through  life,  and  serve  to  explain  much  about 
his  work.  He  was  educated  at  a  private  school  and  at  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge,  where  he  made  much  the  same  sort  of  repu- 
tation that  came  to  him  afterward  in  the  larger  world.  On  leav- 
ing the  university,  he  read  law  and  was  called  to  the  bar.  But  it 
does  not  appear  that  he  ever  meant  to  make  the  law  his  serious 
profession.  In  1825  his  article  on  Milton  appeared  in  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  the  chief  periodical  of  the  time,  and  from  then  on 
he  was  a  man  of  letters  He  became  at  once  well  known  :  his 
writings  aroused  so  mi;ch  interest  that  in  1830  he  was  elected  to 
Parliament. 

Macaulay  was  always  a  prominent  man  in  Parliament,  although 
he  is  not  to  be  thought  of  as  a  great  statesman.  He  took  a  vigor- 
ous part  in  the  Reform  Law  debates  of  1831;  he  was  named 
member  of  the  Supreme  Council  for  India,  and  passed  five  years 
in  Calcutta,  busy  with  the  administration  of  that  great  country  ; 
he  was  even  Secretary  of  War  in  the  Melbourne  Cabinet  of  1840, 


8  LNTRODUCTIOISr. 

and  Postmaster  General  in  1846.  But  his  real  importance  is  as 
a  man  of  letters.  His  Essays  were  published  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review  from  1825  to  1844  and  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica  ; 
his  History  of  England  appeared  hi  1849  and  1855  ;  The  Lays  of 
Ancient  Rome  in  IS  12.  In  1857  he  was  created  a  peer,  with  the 
title  Baron  Macaulay  of  Rothesay. 

Macaulay's  work  is  chiefly  historical.  Even  when  writing  on 
literary  subjects  he  is  better  at  history  than  at  criticism.  The 
historic  imagination  which  has  made  the  History  of  England  as 
entertaining  a  book  as  was  ever  published  is  easily  seen  in  the 
Lays. 

Lowell. — James  Russell  Lowell  was  one  of  our  most  distin- 
guished men  of  letters  ;  whether  most  noted  as  a  poet  or  an  essay- 
ist, it  would  be  hard  to  say.  He  was  also  a  scholar,  and  he  rep- 
resented the  United  States  as  Minister  to  Spain  and  afterwards  to 
England. 

He  was  born  of  a  well-known  New  England  family  at  Cam- 
bridge, February  22,  1819,  and  was  educated  at  a  Cambridge 
school  and  at  Harvard.  He  was  not  especially  distinguished  as  a 
student,  but  was  already  known  to  his  fellow-students  at  least  for 
his  literary  taste  and  his  poetic  gifts.  Having  no  Chancellor's 
Medal  or  Newdigate  Prize  to  contest  for,  Lowell  had  to  be  content 
with  the  position  of  Class  Poet.  He  began  the  study  of  the  law, 
went  through  the  law  school,  and  opened  an  office  in  Boston, 
but  he  never  practised  the  profession.  In  1841  appeared  his  first 
volume  of  poems,  some  of  them  rather  youthful  productions,  but 
others  having  promise  of  his  future  eminence; 

He  became  intensely  interested  in  the  generous  movements  of 
his  time,  especially  the  efforts  looking  toward  the  abolition  of 
slavery.  He  lived  in  Cambridge,  and  wrote  much  in  the  anti- 
slavery  journals.  In  1848  he  gathered  a  number  of  vigorous  satires 
under  the  title  of  The  Bigloiv  Papers.  We  read  the  book  now 
as  literature,  and  find  it  amusing  ;  but  the  poems  were  written 
for  a  purpose,  and  they  did  their  work.  In  the  same  year  he  pub- 
lished also  A  Fable  for  Critics,  a  satire  of  another  sort — a  good- 
humored  review  of  American  literature.  It  was  in  this  same 
year,  too,  that  he  published  Sir  Launfal. 

In  1855  Longfellow  resigned  his  position  of  Professor  of  Mod- 
ern Languages  at  Harvard.     The  chair  was  offered  to  Lowell  and 


INTRODUCTIONS   TO   THE   POEMS.  9 

accepted  by  him.  As  Longfellow  had  done,  he  went  abroad  to 
study,  and  in  1857  began  his  work.  In  the  same  year  was  founded 
the  Atlantic  Monthly,  and  of  this  magazine  Lowell  was  the  editor 
for  four  years. 

As  the  Civil  War  went  on,  Lowell  expressed  himself  again  in 
satire,  and  in  1867  appeared  the  second  volume  of  the  Bigloic 
Papers.  Two  years  after,  in  Under  the  Willows,  appeared  his 
more  serious  poetry  of  the  exciting  years  just  passed. 

Lowell  now  began  to  gather  together  his  essays  and  other  writ- 
ings in  prose.  In  1870  was  published  Among  My  Books  ;  in  1871, 
My  Study  Windows.;  in  1876,  the  second  series  of  Among  My 
Books.  In  1877  he  was  named  Minister  to  Spain  ;  in  1880,  Min- 
ister to  England.  His  last  publications  were  Democracy  in  1886, 
Political  Essays  (1888),  and  Heartsease  and  Rue,  in  the  same 
year — a  collection  of  his  last  poems.     He  died  August  12,  1891. 


INTRODUCTIONS  TO  THE  POEMS. 

Garetli  and  Lynette. — The  Idylls  of  the  King  is  the  longest 
and,  in  some  respects,  the  chief  of  Tennyson's  poems.  The  poem 
as  a  whole  presents  the  career  of  King  Arthur,  the  famous  legend- 
ary King  of  England  in  the  very,  very  old  days.  It  would  take 
too  much  time  to  discuss  whether  there  ever  was  any  such  king 
as  Arthur  ;  it  seems  probable  that  there  was  a  Keltic  chief  of  sim- 
ilar name,  from  whose  deeds  arose  afterward  the  famous  legends. 
More  important  is  it  to  know  that  throughout  the  Middle  Ages 
King  Arthur  was  one  of  the  great  heroes  of  romance.  Many 
were  the  tales  of  him  and  his  knights.  He  was  fabled  to  have 
been  ruler  over  all  England,  to  have  subdued  the  heathen 
Saxons  and  even  the  Romans,  and  to  have  brought  the  whole 
land  to  order  under  his  rule.  The  adventures  of  Arthur  and  his 
knights  were  favorite  subjects  for  the  poets  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
both  in  England  and  in  Prance.  The  last  and  best  known  of 
our  English  romances  is  Le  Morte  d1 Arthur  of  Thomas  Malory 
(1485),  in  which  are  gathered  into  one  book  the  tales  of  many  an 
old  romance  and  poem.  Here  it  is  that  Tennyson  generally  finds 
the  legends  which  give  the  foundation  to  The  Idylls  of  the  King. 
The  story  of  Gareth  is  told  in  Book  VII  of  Le  Morte  $ Arthur— 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

"  the  tale  of  Syr  Gareth  of  Orkney,  that  was  called  Beaumains," 
that  is,  Fair-hands. 

Tennyson  takes  King  Arthur  as  the  type  of  true  manhood  :  he 
takes  him  as  representative  of  the  soul  within  us,  striving  with 
the  evil  of  the  world.  He  even  gives  the  poem  an  allegoric  turn, 
although  this  is  something  we  need  not  study  just  now.  The 
Coming  of  Arthur  '  tells  us  how  he  came  to  his  throne  and  of 
his  marriage.  Then  come  ten  poems  telling  of  the  deeds,  good 
.  and  evil,  of  his  knights.  Tlie  Passing  of  Arthur 1  tells  us  of  his 
last  great  battle,  and  how  he  was  borne  away  from  earth  to  be 
cured  of  his  grievous  wounds. 

Of  the  tales  of  Arthur's  Knights,  the  story  of  Gareth  comes 
first  :  it  is  a  story  of  the  fresh,  youthful  nobility  of  Arthur's 
knighthood  when  at  their  best.  Gareth  is  the  very  flower  of 
young,  honorable  manhood.  No  work  is  too  low  and  vulgar  if 
commanded  by  his  mother ;  no  duty  too  great  and  too  trying  if 
commanded  by  his  king.  Disgrace  lies. only  in  drawing  back 
from  honor,  for  disgraceful  deeds  never  come  to  his  mind.  His 
temper  is  strong,  honest,  self-reliant,  and  full  of  good-humor  and 
hearty  helpfulness.  He  pushes  through  every  difficulty  and  sur- 
mounts every  obstacle. 

His  adventure  is  the  type  of  knight  errantry  :  he  meets  the 
oppressive  ruffians  and  delivers  the  innocent  lady.  In  his  adven- 
ture the  poet  has  suggested,  in  allegoric  fashion  ;  the  struggle  of 
every  one  in  this  world.  The  glittering  and  brilliant  Knight  of 
the  Morning  Star  represents  the  temptations  of  youth ;  the  fierce 
and  blazing  Noonday  Sun  stands  for  the  less  alluring  but  stronger 
passions  of  middle  age;  the  Evening  Star  stands  for  the  evil  habits 
tixed  by  the  weakness  of  a  lifetime.  At  the  end  is  Death,  made 
more  terrible  by  everything  that  can  work  on  the  imagination: 
but,  when  courageously  met,  he  is  found  less  awful  than  one 
could  believe.  Such  is  the  significance,  more  or  less  obvious,  of 
the  adventure;  and  it  may  be  a  pleasure  to  us  afterward  to 
remember  the  symbolism.  Still  the  story  is  the  story  without  it, 
and  the  poem  has  its  own  spirit  and  beauty. 

The  Idylls  of  th<>  King,  and  (la refit  and  L/jnette,  as  much  as 
any  of  them,  are  examples  of  Tennyson's  best  Avorkmanship  in 
poems  of  a  narrative  character.     The  name  "  Idyll  "  would  seem 

1  -  •  "  Kixicli  Anli-n  .-iikI  other  Poems,"  X<>.  6  of  thifi  series. 


INTRODUCTIONS   TO   THE   POEMS.  11 

to  have  been  chosen  by  the  poet  as  meaning  a  picture-poem,  care- 
fully and  elaborately  finished.  The  separate  poems  are  certainly 
examples  of  the  richest  and  fullest  art. 

Sohrab  and  Rustum. — As  it  appears  in  Arnold's  works  the 
poem  is  called  "  an  episode."  That  is,  it  is  given  to  us  as  though 
it  were  part  of  a  longer  poem — as,  for  instance,  Scott  might  have 
published  only  the  story  of  the  meeting  and  combat  between 
Fitz-James  and  Roderick  Dhu,  which  as  it  now  stands  is  a  part 
of  The  Lady  of  the  Lake.  We  are  not  to  think,  however,  that 
Arnold  ever  had  in  mind  the  complete  poem,  of  which  this  should 
have  been  a  part.  Tennyson,  in  writing  Morte  oV Arthur  in  1842, 
spoke  of  it  half  seriously  as  part  of  an  unpublished  poem.  The 
Idylls  of  the  King  was  not  completed  till  forty  years  and  more 
afterward  ;  but  as  it  stands  now,  that  earlier  fragment  has  its 
place  in  it.1  Matthew  Arnold  never  contemplated  a  sustained 
epic  of  this  character  ;  his  desire  was  to  write  a  shorter  poem  in 
epic  fashion. 

Hence,  although  called  an  episode,  Sohrab  and  Rustum  is 
practically  complete  in  itself,  like  Gareth  and  Lynette,  for 
instance.  It  is  true  that  we  can  imagine  it  part  of  a  longer  poem, 
but  on  the  other  hand  the  poem  tells  us  practically  all  we  want 
to  know.  A  word  or  two  may,  perhaps,  be  needful  before  begin- 
ning, about  the  story  and  the  characters. 

The  story  is  not  original  with  the  poet.  It  is  a  Persian  story,  a 
part  of  the  great  Epic  of  Kings — a  long  poem  by  Firdausi,  relat- 
ing the  deeds  of  the  great  heroes  of  Persia,  of  whom  Rustum  was 
the  chief.  If  Matthew  Arnold  had  translated  this  part  of  the 
poem,  it  would  have  been  a  little  more  accurately  called  an  epi- 
sode.    As  it  was,  he  took  the  story  and  told  it  in  English  verse. 

As  is  gradually  unfolded  in  the  poem  as  we  have  it,  Rustum, 
the  son  of  Zal,  had,  in  earlier  adventurous  journeys,  married  a 
beautiful  maiden,  but  had  shortly  been  separated  from  lrer  by 
some  knightly  exploit.  His  wife  had  remained  with  her  father, 
and  a  chTld~was  born  to  her.  Fearing  that  the  adventurous 
hero,  if  he  knew  he  had  a  son,  Would  come  and  take  him  from 
her,  the  mother  sent  word  that  a  daughter  had  been  born  to  them. 
With  not  unnatural  barbaric  brutality,  Rustum,  in  chagrin  at 
not  having  a  son  who  might  be  brought  up  to  knightly  deeds, 

1  Passing  of  Arthur,  11.  17CM40,  in  "  Enoch  Arden  and  Other  Poems  "  in  this  series. 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

abandoned  his  wife  and  heard  no  more  of  her.  She,  however, 
brought  up  her  son,  who  was  strong  and  noble,  and  became  one 
of  tbe  great  warriors  of  Afrasiab,  the  Tartar  king.  The  young 
champion,  knowing  himself  the  son  of  Rustum,  ever  seeks  his 
father.  The  poem  begins  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  invasion  of 
Persia  by  the  Tartars — Sohrab  among  them,  not  their  leader,  but 
their  most  brilliant  champion.  Rustum,  according  to  common 
report,  is  not  with  tbe  Persian  army  :  disgusted  at  the  ungrateful 
Kai  Khosroo,  he  is  thought  to  have  retired  to  his  home,  where  he 
lived  with  his  father,  Zal. 

Horatins. — As  Gareth  is  the  type  of  the  medieval  knight 
errant,  so  we  may  consider  Horatius  the  type  of  the  old  Roman 
knight  and  gentleman. 

In  the  ancient  histories  of  Rome  are  many  stories  which  we 
know  cannot  be  entirely  true.  Romulus  and  Remus,  for  instance, 
twins  born  of  a  maiden  and  a  god,  were  exposed  in  the  Tiber  and 
brought  up  by  a  she-wolf.  Of  course,  whatever  fact  may  bo  at 
the  bottom  of  the  story  has  been  exaggerated  and  changed.  In 
the  oldest  days  of  Rome,  the  great  deeds  of  the  Romans  were  pre- 
served in  many  a  popular  legend  and  story  and  in  songs  and  bal- 
lads— known  to  all,  and  sung  at  festivals  and  on  great  occasions. 
To  tell  the  truth,  the  real  historic  records  of  the  earliest  days  were 
destroyed  in  the  wars  and  violence  of  the  time.  But  ballads  and 
popular  songs  never  trouble  to  be  accurate  ;  they  give  a  striking 
account  of  the  fact,  and  are  content  even  if  they  are  not  strictly 
correct  in  their  details.  So  the  early  history  of  Rome  lived  in  a 
ballad-literature,  which,  as  it  existed  only  in  the  mouths  of  the 
poets,  was  gradually  forgotten  on  the  appearance  of  the  more 
formal  written  literature  that  we  know— the  literature  of  Terence 
and  Plautus,  of  Horace  and  Vergil,  of  Livy  and  Tacitus. 

Bfacaulay  was  greatly  interested  in  this  idea  of  a  popular  poetry, 
preserved  in  the  memory  of  popular  poets  and  preserving  the 
fame  of  the  great  deeds  of  great  Romans.  His  imagination,  here 
as  always  ip.  18),  worked  to  make  the  idea  real  to  him  :  he 
imagined  for  himself  what  such  old  poetry  might  have  been,  and 
wrote  the  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to 
have  much  historical  knowledge  of  the  matter  :  it  is  probable  that 
the  only  historic  fact  in  the  whole  was  the  invasion  by  Porsena, 
which  Tacitus  says  was  entirely  successful,  and  not  repulsed  at 


n 


INTRODUCTIONS  TO  THE   POEMS.  13 

all.  But  that  need  not  trouble  us  ;  the  point  is  that  we  have 
here,  that  Macaulay  had  in  mind,  a  piece  of  simple  and  stirring 
ballad-poetry,  such  as  we  may  read  in  our  own  tongue. 

Of  course  Macaulay  was  not  a  simple  old  balladist,  however  ; 
and  so  his  poem  is  not  precisely  a  ballad.  Just  as  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  in  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  or  in  Marmion,  wrote  a 
poem  full  of  the  life  and  spirit  of  the  old  ballad-poetry  which  he 
knew  so  well,  so  Macaulay  produced  a  longer,  more  polished 
poem,  which  should  give  us  later  readers  some  sort  of  an  idea  of 
what  the  old  Roman  ballad-poetry  was.  In  his  preface  to  the 
poem  he  shows  that  there  probably  had  been  a  ballad  on  Hora- 
tius  and  his  defense  of  the  bridge  among  the  old  poems  which 
were  sung  in  ancient  Rome. 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal  was  one  of  Lowell's  early  poems. 
His  first  poems  were  published  in  1843  ;  the  Vision  only  five 
years  later.  The  two  things  that  have  made  it  so  widely  known 
as  it  is  are  both  more  characteristic  of  the  poet  in  his  youth  than 
of  his  later  years.  The  love  of  nature  never  left  him  ;  but  there 
is  a  fresh  exuberance  of  youth  to  the  feeling  which  created  the 
atmosphere  of  full,  warm  summer  and  of  hard,  piercing  winter. 
So  also  is  the  moral  and  allegoric  character  of  the  poem  due  to 
the  feeling,  strong  with  Lowell  at  this  time,  that  his  poems  must 
not  only  please  but  teach. 

On  this  last  matter  there  is  much  to  say  on  either  side.  For 
my  own  part,  I  feel  that  so  plain-spoken  a  moral  will  not  be  very 
useful  to  us  in  the  long  run ;  although  it  will,  at  the  time  of  read- 
ing, appeal  to  our  moral  sense,  and  very  possibly  make  clear  to  us 
something  that  we  have  already  realized  but  dimly.  On  the 
other  hand  it  will  be  said,  Here  is  a  true,  a  guiding  principle  of 
life  which  can  never  fail  to  be  of  service  to  us,  put  in  the  form  of 
a  beautiful  poem,  which  will  never  be  forgotten  by  one  who  has 
once  read  it  with  care.  Certainly,  taking  the  poem  as  a  strength- 
ener  of  our  moral  nature,  it  ranges  other  things  on  the  right  side  ; 
the  full,  fresh  summer  is  for  us  henceforward  a  sign  of  open- 
heartedness  ;  and  even  the  hard  cold  of  winter  will  be  to  us 
better  than  the  hardness  of  a  cold  heart. 

This  obvious  moral  element  is  often  thought  of  as  unpoetic  : 
Lowell  himself  sometimes  thought  so.  Practically,  we  need  not 
bother  ourselves  much  about  the  names.     If  we  get  pleasure,  and 


14  INTRODUCTION". 

lasting  good  besides,  from  the  poem,  we  are  so  much  the  richer. 
But,  however  we  may  feel  about  the  moral  element,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  about  the  other  element  of  which  we  spoke — the  feeling 
for  the  beauty  of  nature.  Not  to  mention  the  constant  allusions, 
nor  the  artistic  care  with  which  the  feeling  of  the  poem  is  echoed 
or  contrasted  in  the  descriptions  of  nature,  we  may  think  espe- 
cially of  the  two  famous  passages,  the  appreciation  of  summer 
(11.  33-70),  and  the  ice- working  of  the  brook  (11.  174-210).  These 
passages  unite  the  keen  observation  of  the  lover  of  nature  with 
the  living  imagination  of  the  poet. 

FIGURES  OF  SPEECH. 

It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  give  a  good  definition  of  Figure  of 
Speech.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  very  many  kinds  of  expres- 
sion have  been  called  "  figures  of  speech  "  which  are  really  not 
alike  except  in  the  fact  that  they  are  not  plain,  straightforward 
ways  of  speaking.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  say  that  a  figure  of 
speech  is  a  departure  from  the  ordinary  direct  mode  of  expression  ; 
for  that  definition  would  include  many  forms  of  sentence-struct- 
ure, many  variations  of  diction,  which  we  do  not  commonly  think 
of  as  figures.  The  fact  is  that  the  older  writers  called  almost  any 
mode  of  expression  which  could  not  be  readily  classified  other- 
wise a  "  figure  of  speech."  The  result  is  that,  in  the  old  books 
on  poetry  or  rhetoric,  there  sometimes  are  more  than  a  hundred 
figures  mentioned,  each  with  a  long  name,  and  all  together  mak- 
ing a  very  confusing  collection. 

For  us  it  will  be  enough  to  understand  some  of  the  commoner 
figures— to  know  what  they  are,  how  they  come  to  be  used,  and 
what  sort  of  effect  they  have.  And  in  doing  this  we  shall  not 
have  much  difficulty  ;  for,  if  it  be  hard  to  find  any  common  like- 
ness between  all  the  modes  of  expression  that  rhetoricians  have  at 
one  time  or  another  chosen  to  call  "  figures  of  speech,"  it  is  not 
especially  hard  to  learn  the  chief  things  about  the  commoner 
figures, 

A.  Figures  Based  upon  Resemblance. 

One  of  our  commonest  habits  is  to  compare  one  thing  with 
another.     Indeed,  it  is  not  only  the  commonest  habit,  but  the 


FIGURES   OF   SPEECH.  15 

most  necessary  ;  for  if  we  did  not  compare  things,  and  see  how 
they  resemble  each  other  and  how  they  differ,  we  should  never 
really  know  anything  about  them.  All  science  is  built  up  on 
resemblance  and  difference. 

Not  only  in  science,  however,  but  in  poetry,  is  resemblance 
a  common  thing.  Even  in  everyday  conversation  we  are 
always  remarking  resemblances:  "as  good  as  gold,"  "as  firm 
as  a  rock,"  we  say  ;  "like  lightning,"  "like  a  fish."  If  we 
cant  think  of  a  comparison  strong  enough,  we  say,  'You 
never  saw  anything  like  it."  Comparisons  are  not  a  posses- 
sion of  the  poet  only  ;  everybody  uses  them.  But  the  poet  is 
always  thinking  of  fresh  and  beautiful  ones  ;  most  people  use 
the  same  old  comparisons  that  have  been  in  the  language  for 
years. 

But  not  all  comparisons  are  called  figures  of  speech.  There  is 
a  difference  in  the  kind  of  subject-matter.  If  we  say  of  a  boy, 
"  John  is  as  big  as  an  elephant,"  we  should  call  it  a  figure.  But 
if  we  say,  "John  is  as  big  as  his  father  was  at  his  age,"  we  should 
not  call  it  a  figure,  but  an  ordinary  comparison.  The  difference 
is  that  in  the  latter  case  we  wanted  to  express  with  precision  an 
actual  fact  ;  we  state  it  in  plain,  simple  words  of  which  the  mean- 
ing is  obvious.  In  the  former  case,  however,  we  merely  wish  to 
give  a  striking  impression  ;  we  mean  that  John  is  a  very  big 
boy.  He  is  not  really  as  large  even  as  a  very  small  elephant  ; 
but  we  connect  the  idea  of  bigness  with  the  elephant,  and  so  we 
make  the  comparison,  knowing  that  it  will  make  on  the  mind  a 
strong  impression  of  size. 

This  difference  is  often  stated  by  saying  that  a  simile  is  the 
statement  of  resemblance  between  things  of  different  kinds,  while 
the  resemblance  between  things  of  the  same  kind  or  class  is  called 
simply  a  comparison.  Thus,  "John"  and  "his  father  at  his 
age  "  are  of  the  same  kind  or  class — namely,  boys  ;  but  "  John" 
and  ' '  an  elephant "  are  of  different  kinds.  This  distinction  rather 
simplifies  the  actual  facts,  but  it  comes  near  enough  to  a  state- 
ment of  the  case. 
In  Gareth  and  Lynette,  when  Bellicent  says, 

"  Thy  father  Lot  beside  the  hearth 
Lies  like  a  log,  and  all  but  smoulder'd  out,"  11.  73,  74, 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

we  have  a  simile;  for  a  man  and  a  log  are  of  different  kind.  But 
later,  in  the  line, 

"  The  three  were  clad  like  tillers  of  the  soil,"  1.  178, 

we  have  but  a  comparison ;  for  we  are  merely  comparing  one  kind 
of  man  with  another. 

In  poetry  we  are  not  so  apt  to  find  comparisons  as  similes  ;  for 
the  poet  generally  thinks,  not  so  much  of  stating  precise  facts  as 
they  may  happen  to  exist,  but  rather  of  saying  what  will  be  sug- 
gestive  and  stirring  to  the  imagination. 

We  have  so  far  spoken  as  if  all  figures  of  speech  based  on 
resemblance  were  similes.  But  there  are  other  ways  in  which  we 
may  express  a  figurative  comparison.  Suppose  we  say,  ' '  He  had 
no  sooner  begun  the  investigation  than  he  was  worried  by  a  thou- 
sand minor  annoyances,"  and  suppose  we  want  to  make  some 
figurative  comparison. 

1.  We  may  state  it  directly.  "He  had  no  sooner  begun  the 
investigation  than  he  was  worried  by  a  thousand  minor  annoy- 
ances, as  a  big  bear  seeking  for  honey  is  bothered  by  a  swarm  of 
bees." 

2.  We  may  speak  of  the  matter  as  if  it  wei*e  something  else. 
"  He  had  no  sooner  poked  his  nose  into  the  matter  than  he  was 
assailed  by  a  swarm  of  bothers  that  threatened  to  sting  the  life 
out  of  him." 

3.  We  may  state  the  fact,  and  then  state  something  else  and 
imply  that  the  two  are  alike  :  "He  had  no  sooner  begun  the 
investigation  than  he  was  worried  by  a  thousand  minor  annoy- 
ances :  the  bear  had  roused  a  swarm  of  stinging  bees." 

Of  these  three  ways  the  first  is  called  a  Simile  and  the  second 
a  Metaphor.  The  third,  if  it  were  longer,  would  be  called  an 
Allegory.  It  is  not  so  common  a  figure  in  English  as  either  of 
the  others  ;  but  we  will  call  it  an  Allegory,  whether  it  be  long,  as 
a  story,  or  short,  as  in  a  single  sentence. 

It  is  curious  to  note  that  poets  and  prose- writers  as  well  use 
these  figures  very  differently.  In  the  first  place,  some  use  a  great 
many  more  than  others  ;  Lowell,  for  instance,  may  be  compared 
with  Macaulay.  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal  is  full  of  figura- 
tive likenesses,  expressed   or  suggested  ;   Horatius  has  hardly 


FIGURES   OF   SPEECH.  17 

any. l  This  anybody  would  notice  at  the  first  reading ;  it  might  not 
be  so  obvious  that  Sohrab  and  Rustum  has  more  figures  than  Hora- 
tins,  but  not  so  many  in  proportion  to  its  length  as  Gareth  and 
Lynette,  while  this  last  has,  proportionately,  not  nearly  so  many 
as  Sir  Launfal. 

Let  us  understand  this  matter  before  we  go  farther.  Why 
does  one  poet  use  more  figures  of  comparison  than  another  ?  Is 
it  because  he  is  more  of  a  poet  ? 

The  answer  is  not  quite  so  simple  as  that.  We  may  certainly 
say  that  a  great  store  of  fresh,  beautiful  figures  shows  a  strong,  a 
poetic  imagination.  Read  Sir  Launfal,  and  see  how  everything 
suggested  to  Lowell  some  figurative  comparison.  The  passage  on 
the  frozen  brook  is  as  good  an  example  as  any  other.  This  shows 
what  would  be  called  "  a  poetic  imagination."  But  how  about 
the  other  side  ?  Can  an  imagination  be  poetic  which  does  not 
bring  up  such  comparisons  ?  In  Macaulay  there  is  little  of  all 
this.  We  have,  not  a  multitude  of  short  figures,  but  a  few  long 
ones.  When  Astur  falls,  under  the  blow  of  Horatius,  Macaulay 
thinks  of  the  fall  of  a  mighty  tree,  and  writes  : 

"And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Fell  at  that  deadly  stroke, 
As  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus 

A  thunder-smitten  oak. 
Far  o'er  the  crashing  forest 

The  giant  arms  lie  spread  ; 
And  the  pale  augurs,  muttering  low, 

Gaze  on  the  blasted  head." 

In  Sir  Launfal  there  is  but  one  comparison  of  such  length 
(11.  205-210),  and  even  this  is  hardly  a  true  simile  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  almost  every  sentence  suggests  some  figurative  com- 
parison. Now,  shall  we  say  that  Lowell  had  a  greater  imagination 
than  Macaulay  ?  Certainly,  in  one  respect,  Macaulay  had  a  greater 
imagination  that  Lowell  ;  that  is,  he  rarely  thought  of  anything 

1  A  direct  comparison  can  be  made  by  rate  of  152  per  1,000.    Horatius  (589  11.)  has 

actually  counting  the  figures  and  stating  the  16  per  1,000.    We  may,  then,  say  that  there 

results  in  ratios  per  1,000  lines.    Thus,  Sir  are  about  10  times  as  many  figures  in  Sir 

Launfal  has   about  54  figures  (excluding  Launfal  as  in  Horatius. 
tropes,  see  p.  21)  in  352  lines,  which  is  at  the 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

without  its  suggesting  to  him  some  definite  image.  Read  stanzas 
iv.  and  v.  of  Horatius,  and  see  how  every  town  mentioned  calls  to 
his  mind  something  definite  about  it — the  giant  hold  of  Volaterrae  : 
Populonia,  with  the  expanse  of  sea  before  her  ;  Pisa?,  with  its 
crowded  harbor — each  one  brought  to  mind  by  some  particular 
circumstance.  Macaulay  makes  these  places  real  to  himself, 
which  is  certainly  more  than  Lowell  does  for  the  castle  of  Sir 
Launfal.  Read  Horatius  with  this  idea  in  mind,  and  see  what  a 
power  Macaulay  had  of  realizing  his  conceptions.1  We  must 
allow  that,  as  far  as  constructive  imagination  is  concerned, 
Macaulay  is  the  superior. 

Let  us  then,  just  now  at  least,  not  bother  ourselves  with  trying 
to  determine  which  is  the  best  poet.  Let  us  be  satisfied  in  see- 
ing what  kind  of  poet  each  one  is.  We  see  Macaulay's  imagina- 
tion making  everything  real  and  living  to  him  (cf.  Horatius, 
11.  106-121 ;  168-200)  ;  we  see  Lowell's  imagination  playing  about 
everything  that  comes  to  mind,  adorning  everything  with  roses, 
as  it  were,  half- fantastic,  exuberant.  It  will  be  worth  while  to 
read  Sohrab  and  Rustum,  and  Gareth  and  Lynette,  to  see  what 
you  can  discover  of  Tennyson  and  Arnold.  In  this  respect  you 
will  find  that  Tennyson  is  more  like  Lowell,  and  Arnold  more 
like  Macaulay. 

So  far,  however,  we  have  merely  thought  of  figures  altogether, 
without  considering  their  especial  kinds.  Let  us  now  consider 
the  differences  we  noted  above.     Note  the  following  passage  : 

"  But  as  a  troop  of  peddlers,  from  Cabool, 
Cross  underneath  the  Indian  Caucasus, 
That  vast  sky-neighboring  mountain  of  milk  snow  , 
Crossing  so  high,  that,  as  they  mount,  they  pass, 
Long  flocks  of  traveling  birds  dead  on  the  snow, 
Choked  by  the  air,  and  scarce  can  they  themselves 
Slake  their  parched  throats  with  sugared  mulberries — 
In  .single  file  they  move,  and  stop  their  breath, 
For  fear  they  should  dislodge  the  o'erhanging  snows — 
So  the  pale  Persians  held  their  breath  with  fear." 

Sohrab  und  Rustum,  11.  160-109. 

1  Of  course,  this  is  one  of  the  great  characteristics  of  his  prose.  Notice,  also,  what  is 
paid  (p.  32)  of  his  use  of  h[k-<  iti<-  words. 


FIGURES   OF  SPEECH.  19 

Here  the  picture  of  the  terrified  mei*chants  stands  out  clear  and 
distinct  in  our  minds,  and  we  think  how  the  Persians  must  have 
held  their  breaths  at  the  challenge  of  Sohrab.     But  now  read  this  : 

"  To  weary  her  ears  with  one  continuous  prayer, 
Until  she  let  me  fly  diseaged  to  sweep 
In  ever-highering  eagle-circles  up 
To  the  great  Sun  of  Glory,  and  thence  swoop 
Down  upon  all  things  base,  and  dash  them  dead, 
A  knight  of  Arthur,  working  out  his  will, 
To  cleanse  the  world." 

Gaveth  and  Lynette,  11.  19-25. 

This  is  very  different.  We  get  the  idea,  certainly.  Gareth 
compares  himself,  as  a  knight  of  King  Arthur,  to  a  great  eagle ; 
but  he  speaks  all  in  a  breath  of  the  eagle  and  himself.  We  have 
no  clear-cut  picture,  but  the  rush  of  the  soaring  eagle  and  the  flash 
of  Gareth  in  his  armor  all  in  one  moment.  This  is  the  difference 
between  Simile  and  Metaphor  :  one  is  more  distinct,  the  other  is 
more  brilliant. 

If  you  will  read  Sohrab  and  Rustuni,  keeping  your  eye  out  for 
figm^es,  you  will  find  full  twenty  °f  these  long  sustained  figures. 
In  Gareth  and  Lynette  there  are  much  fewer ; '  in  Horatius,  only 
three  ; 2  in  Sir  Launfal,  none.  'Hence  the  style  of  Sohrnh  and 
Riistum  has  a  certain  ^distinctness  to  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
Gareth  and  Lynette  is  full  of  short  similes — not  full  pictures,  but 
just  a  word  or  two;  and  has  also  a  good  many  metaphors.  All 
this  gives  a  sort  of  brilliancy.  Sohrab  and  Rustuni  has  but  one_ 
sustained  metajdior;  and  few  short  similes,  and  the  sa.me-mavbe- 
said  of  Horatius. 

In  Sohrab  and  Rustuni,  then,  we  may  say  that  the  figures  tend 
to  give  a  more  clear-cut  impression,  a  more  definite  outline_j_in_ 
Gareth  and  Lynette,  we  have  a  more  glowing  and  brilliant  effect. 
The  difference  is  something  like  that  between  a  Greek  statue  of 
white  marble  and  a  modern  picture,  with  all  its  fullness  of  color. 
The  difference  should  be  noted  :  it  is  not  a  difference  in  degree  of 
excellence  ;  it  is  rather  a  difference  between  kinds  of  excellence. 
The  manner  of  Arnold  is  sometimes  called  classic^  and  the 
manner  of  Tennyson  is  called  romantic.     Concerning  these  two 

«  For  instance,  11.  1116-1119.  2  For  instance,  11.  412-416. 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

words  as  applied  to  style,  and  especially  to  poetic  style,  the  fol- 
lowing has  heen  written  : 

"In  classical  writing,  every  idea  is  called  up  to  the  mind  as 
nakedly  as  possible,  and,  at  the  same  time,  as  distinctly  ;  it  is 
exhibited  in  white  light,  and  left  to  produce  its  own  effect  by  its 
own  unaided  power.  In  romantic  writing,  on  the  other  hand,  all 
objects  are  exhibited,  as  it  were,  through  a  colored  and  iridescent 
atmosphere.  Round  about  every  central  idea  the  romantic  writer 
summons  up  a  cloud  of  accessory  subordinate  ideas  for  the  sake 
of  enhancing  the  effect  at  the  risk  of  confusing  its  outlines.  The 
temper,  again,  of  the  romantic  writer  is  one  of  excitement,  while 
the  temper  of  the  classical  writer  is  one  of  self-possession.  .  .  . 
On  the  one  hand,  there  is  calm,  on  the  other,  enthusiasm  ;  the 
virtues  of  one  style  are  strength  of  grasp,  with  clearness  and  just- 
ness of  presentment  ;  the  virtues  of  the  other  style  are  glow  of 
spirit,  with  magic  and  richness  of  suggestion."  ' 

So  far  as  metaphors  and  similes  are  concerned,  Tennyson  is 
romantic.  But  we  must  also  note  another  kind  of  figure.  In 
Gareth  and  Lynette,  1.  141 : 

"Who  walks  thro'  fire  will  hardly  heed  the  smoke." 

Bellicent  means  that  Gareth,  not  minding  the  petty  annoyances 
that  must  come  with  the  great  trial  he  undergoes,  would  be  like 
one  who,  in  walking  through  fire,  would  not  heed  the  smoke.2  But 
she  does  not  directly  say,  "You  will  be  like  one  who  walks 
through  lire,"  etc.  She  leaves  us  to  guess  the  application.  This 
we  have  called  Allegory,  for  it  is  not  simile  and  it  is  not  meta- 
phor ;  and  it  is  in  character  like  the  longer  figures  which  are 
commonly  called  allegories.  Thus,  in  the  allegory  of  Gareth  and 
the  four  brothers  (11.  618  ft'.,  1169),  the  comparisons  are  merely 
suggested,  not  stated.  The  temptations  of  youth  are  alluring  and 
charming,  but  may  be  overcome  by  impetuous  resistance  :  the 
temptations  of  middle  age  are  powerful  and  blinding — one  must 
deal  with  them  as  one  may  ;  the  temptations  of  age  are  old  habits 
that  must  be  wrestled  with  long  and  bitterly,  and  after  all  these 

'Sidney  Colvin,  in  the  Introduction  to  than  does  fire;  but  then,  in  away,  the  petty 
Selections  from  Landor.  annoyances  of  this  world  may  be  more  kill- 

'  Actually,  smoke  kills  far  more  quickly      Ing  than  its  great  Borrows. 


FIGURES    OF   SPEECH.  21 

struggles  comes  death,  which  is  in  reality  not  so  awful  as  we 
have  thought.  All  these  things  are  suggested  by  the  battles  of 
Gareth  with  the  four  brothers,  but  the  comparisons  are  not  defi- 
nitely stated.  This  we  call  Allegory.  But  just  the  same  kind  of 
figure  are  the  shorter  stories  of  11.  42  ff.,  100  ff.,  982-987,  and  the 
symbolism  of  11.  212  ff.,  1174  ff. ;  and  of  just  the  same  kind  also 
(suggesting  a  comparison,  but  not  stating  it  as  in  simile  or  meta- 
phor) are  the  shorter  figures  of  the  lines,  ' '  Lion  and  stoat  have 
isled  together  .  .  .  in  time  of  flood  "  (11.  871,  2),  or  "  red  berries 
charm  the  bird"  (1.  84).  The  allegory,  then,  in  various  forms  is 
common  in  Gareth  and  Lynette.  It  is  a  figure,  on  the  whole, 
romantic  in  character.  Eastern  literature,  Arabic  and  Persian  as 
well  as  Hebrew,  abounds  in  it;  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages 
is  full  of  it.  Allegory  may  be  found  in  the  classics  ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  as  is  easily  seen,  it  does  not  help  the  calm,  clear  beauty 
of  outline  which  the  classic  poets  aimed  to  gain  :  it  is  indefinite, 
vague,  mystical. 

So  far  as  these  three  figures  are  concerned,  Simile,  Metaphor, 
Allegory— it  will  be  seen  that  Sohrab  and  Rustum  is  especially 
marked  by  its  classic  similes  ;  that  Gareth  and  Lynette  has  bril- 
liant romantic  figures  of  various  kinds  ;  that  Sir  Launfal  has 
immense  wealth  of  fanciful  metaphor  ;  that  Horatius  has  few 
figures  of  any  kind.  Each  poem  has,  then,  a  certain  character  of 
style  given  by  its  figures,  which,  had  we  time,  we  might  see 
marked  more  strongly  by  its  diction  and  expression,  by  its  sub- 
ject and  mode  of  thought. 

There  is  one  word  more  to  be  said  of  figures  of  this  kind — or. 
rather,  of  metaphors  in  particular.  In  studying  diction  '  we  have 
already  seen  that  figurative  words  are  very  common  in  poetry  ; 
i.e.,  single  words  which  suggest  a  figure  that  is  not  carried  far. 
These  figurative  words  are  called  "tropes,"  the  meaning  is  of  a 
word  ' '  turned  away  "  from  its  literal,  prosaic  meaning  into  some 
figurative  sense.  We  shall  speak  further  concerning  the  tropes 
or  figurative  diction  of  the  poets  we  are  studying  on  p.  33 ;  but 
now  it  will  be  enough  to  call  attention  to  one  point.  Words  sug- 
gestive of  figures  are  very  common  in  language  ;  we  all  use  them 
every  day,  and  that  without  thinking  of  them  as  figures.  Thus 
we  might  say,  "  hebrooded  over  his  wrongs,"  without  ever  think- 

Introduction  to  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake. 


22 


INTRODUCTION. 


ing  of  bens,  or  "his  blood  boiled,"  without  thinking  of  it  as  being 
even  over  100°.  But  these  expressions  when  first  used  were 
really  figurative,  like  very  many  other  words  which  we  use.  To 
"prevent "  meant  really  "  to  get  ahead  of  "  ;  to  "  inspire  "  meant 
really  "to  breathe  into"  :  but  now  nobody  remembers  that,  and 
we  use  the  words  as  though  they  were  perfectly  literal.  These 
metaphorical  words  may  be  called  "petrified  metaphors''  ;  for 
there  is  no  more  life  in  them,  and  they  are,  as  it  were,  turned  to 
stone.  We  need  not  trouble  about  them  in  studying  figures,  for 
no  one  thinks  of  their  figurative  meaning.  A  poet  uses  fresh,  living 
figures ;  sometimes  he  revives  old  meanings,  sometimes  he  sug- 
gests new  ones. 


. 


B.  Other  Figures. 

There  are  many  other  figures  of  speech  mentioned  by  writers 
on  poetry,  as  we  have  already  said ;  but  we  shall  not  study  them 
all  particularly.  We  shall  merely  note  the  main  characteristics 
of  a  few,  which  will  suggest  to  us  something  interesting  in  the 
poets  we  are  studying. 

Personification. — The  figure  of  personification  is,  as  every- 
one knows,  the  speaking  of  some  inanimate  thing  as  if  it  were  a 
person.  Thus,  where  Macaulay  says  of  the  city  of  Cortona  that 
she 

"  lifts  to  heaven 
fler  diadem  of  towers," 

he  thinks  of  the  city  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman.  When 
Lowell  says  of  the  brook  (1.  181)  that  he  heard  the  wind  and  built 
a  roof,  he  thinks  of  the  brook  as  a  man  looking  after  himself 
i  i  i  bad  weather.  When  Tei  i  nys<  >n  writes,  ' '  a  slender-shafted  Pine, 
lost  footing,  fell,  and  so  was  whirled  away"  (1.  4),  he  thinks  of  the 
tree  as  a  person  who  actually  fa  1  Is  into  the  torrent.  When  Arnold 
speaks  of  the  river  Oxus  "rejoicing  .  .  .  under  the  solitary 
moon,"  he  thinks  of  it  as  having  life  and  personality. 

Personilieation  is.  and  always  has  been,  common  in  poetry. 
The  poet  conceives  of  the  world  as  full  of  movement  and  life;  and 
just  as  the  ancient  (i  reeks  really  believed  in  spirits  of  the  trees  and 
water-springs,  of  the  mountains  and  the  sea,— spirits  of  human 
shape  and  beauty,— SO  the  poets  are  apt  to  think  of  things  which 
have  not  life  as  if  they  had. 


FIGURES   OF   SPEECH.  23 

One  form  of  personification,  and  the  simplest,  is  that  of  speak- 
ing of  some  abstraction  as  though  it  were  a  person.  Thus,  Gold- 
smith writes  : 

"  And  shouting  Folly  hails  them  from  the  shore  "; 

and  we  can  all  remember  the  analogies  in  the  other  arts — statues 
of  Justice,  pictures  of  Charity!!  You  must  remember  that  this  is 
not  the  only  kind  of  Personification.  It  is  not  necessary  that  we 
use  a  capital  letter  ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is  it  enough  to  do  so. 

Personification  is  sometimes  thought  of  as  a  figure  of  resem- 
blance. The  poet,  it  is  said,  thinks  of  the  city  as  being  like  a 
beautiful  woman,  of  the  brook  as  being  like  a  wise  and  busy 
builder.  But  this,  I  hardly  think,  is  so  ;  for  the  moment  the  poet 
thinks  of  the  city  as  a  woman.  If  you  cannot  understand  that, 
you  must  read  more  poetry  until  you  can. 

Metonymy  and  Synecdoche. — There  are  a  number  of 
figures  which  go  in  general  under  the  name  of  Metonymy  and 
Synecdoche,  which  all  arise  from  our  way  of  alluding  to  things 
by  the  most  striking  circumstance  or  part.  Metonymy  is  the  nam- 
ing something  by  some  accompaniment  which  comes  naturally 
to  mind.  It  is  of  very  many  kinds.  Sometimes  "a  significant 
adjunct"  gives  a  name,  as  when  we  say  "blue-coat"  or  "blue- 
jacket" for  soldier  or  sailor.  Sometimes  the  name  of  the  con- 
tainer is  used  for  the  thing  contained,  as  when  we  say  "a  long 
purse,"  meaning  the  money  that  is  in  it.  Sometimes  we  speak  of 
the  effect,  meaning  the  cause,  as  when  we  say  "gray  hairs"  for 
the  old  age  which  causes  them.  Quite  as  common  is  Synecdoche, 
or  the  using  the  name  of  a  part  for  a  whole,  as  when  we  say 
"wheel"  for  "bicycle,"  or  "trolley"  for  "electric  railroad." 
There  are  other  kinds  of  metonymy  and  synecdoche,  but  these  are 
the  more  common  forms.  They  come  from  a  desire  to  indicate 
anything  by  whatever  attracts  most  notice.  These  figures  are 
not  uncommon  in  daily  speech  :  the  examples  of  wheel  and  trolley 
show  how  they  arise.  They  are  a  part  of  the  poetry  of  everyday 
conversation. 

On  the  other  hand,  they  are  not  so  very  common  in  real  poetry. 
Of  course,  the  poet  uses  the  expressions  of  common  talk  if  he 
chooses ;  but  he  is  not  nearly  so  apt  to  invent  new  metonymies  and 
synecdoches  as  he  is  to  invent  new  similes.     Such,  at  least,  is  the 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

case  with  the  poems  we  have  in  hand.  All  the  reasons  for  this  I 
cannot  at  present  suggest.  One,  however,  is  that  Tennyson,  Macau- 
lay,  Arnold,  at  least,  in  these  narrative  poems,  with  all  their  figura- 
tive similes  and  metaphors,  do  study  a  concreteness  and  directness 
of  diction:  and  to  this  (he  use  of  metonymyis  opposed.  It  may  Be 
more  natural  to  say  "a  sail  "  when  you  mean  a  certain  vessel  seen 
at  sea,  hut  it  calls  up  a  more  distinct  picture  to  say  "  a  schooner." 
It  may  he  more  brilliant  to  say,  "  he  seized  his  hlade,"  but  it  gives 
a  more  distinct  picture  to  say  "  he  seized  his  broadsword."  If  you 
will  look  at  what  is  said  on  pp.  29-34  on  the  diction  of  these  poems, 
you  will  see  that  it  is  generally  specific  and  concrete;  hence,  there 
arc  not  many  metonymies  and  synecdoches. 

Interrogation  and  Exclamation. — When  Lowell  writes, 

"  What  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ?  " 

we  know  that  he  expects  no  answer  to  the  question.  It  is  a  ques- 
tion in  form  only.     When  he  writes, 

"  And  hark  !  how  clear  bold  chanticleer, 
Warmed  with  the  new  wine  of  the  year, 
Tells  all  in  his  lusty  crowing," 

we  are  conscious  that  he  has  departed  from  the  plain  manner  of 
prose,  which  generally  uses  statements  rather  than  exclamations. 
In  narrative  poems,  such  as  these  we  are  studying,  these  devices, 
which  are  often  called  figures  of  speech,  are  not  very  common. 
But  one  or  two  things  are  worth  noting.  One  is  that  in  Horatius 
you  will  find  a  few,  for  Horatius  is  written  as  though  it  were  an 
old  ballad  (p.  12),  an  old  song  sung  to  listeners.  Hence,  Macau- 
lay  writes : 

"But  hark  !  the  cry  is  Astur: 
And  lo  !  the  ranks  divide,"  348,  349. 

But  in  general  you  will  not  find  many  such  expressions;  for 
they  rather  interfere  with  the  clearness  and  directness  which  we 
have  spoken  of  elsewhere. 

In  Lowell  also  you  will  find  a  few  such,  but  for  a  somewhat 
different  reason.  They  occur  in  the  prelude  to  Part  One.  where 
the  tone  of  the  poet — see  especially  11.  9-32— is  much  as  if  he  were 
talking  to  somebody.     The  passage  is  not  narrative,   but  rather 


METRE.  25 

lyrical.  In  narrative  poems  such  figures  are  rare  ;  in  Sohrab 
and  Rustum  you  will  not  find  one  of  them,  except  in  the  lan- 
guage of  one  or  another  of  the  characters.  It  is  not,  then,  neces- 
sary to  poetry  that  we  should  have  these  unusual  expressions  ; 
we  may  have  the  plainest  kind  of  sentence,  and  especially  in  nar- 
rative poetry. 

There  are  many  other  modes  of  speech  which  are  called  Figures, 
but  we  have  noted  the  commonest.  In  your  study  of  them 
always  bear  in  mind  one  thing  :  a  figure  of  speech  in  a  poem  is 
an  indication  of  the  way  a  poet  thinks.  Do  not  look  at  it  as  just 
something  in  a  book  to  be  learned  about  ;  think  of  it  as  something 
that  will  give  you,  in  some  slight  degree,  to  understand  the  work- 
ings of  a  poet's  mind.  That  is  not,  it  is  true,  one  of  the  reasons 
for  reading  poetry  ;  we  read  poetry  to  gain  pleasure  from  it.  But 
it  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  studying  poetry  ;  for  an  appreciation 
of  how  a  poet  thinks  will  enable  us  to  read  his  work  more  read- 
ily and  sympathetically,  and  therefore  with  more  pleasure. 

METRE. 

A  few  notes  are  added  here,  on  Rhythm  and  Rhmye,  for  those 
who  have  already  made  a  beginning  in  the  subject.  References 
are  made  to  the  study  of  the  subject  in  the  Introduction  to  Ten- 
nyson's Enoch  Arden  and  Other  Poems  (No.  6  in  this  Series). 
Those  who  have  studied  other  systems  of  metre,  however,  will 
apprehend  the  following  remarks  by  remembering  the  notation. 
Unaccented  syllables  are  indicated  by  x,  accented  by  a  ;  thus,  an 
iambic  foot  is  xa,  a  trochaic  foot  ax,  etc.  The  figure  before  the 
foot  indicates  the  measure  ;  thus,  5xa  is  iambic  pentameter,  iax 
trochaic  tetrameter,  etc. 

Oareth  and  Lynette. — The  poem  is  in  blank  verse,  5xa 
unrhymed.    Examples  of  the  customary  variations  are  as  follows  : 

A.  Substitution  of  ax  for  xa. 

1.  Especially  in  the  first  foot  ;  note  the  emphatic  effect  in  11.  23, 
62,  104,  128,  149,  503  (note  the  effect  of  the  pause) ;  118,  191,  887 
(note  the  pause  at  the  end  of  the  second  foot,  a  common  cadence 
with  Tennyson) ;  796  (cf.  C  xxa  in  third  foot)  ;  939  (note  the 
effect  of  the  repetition  ;  the  three  lines  beginning  with  an  accent, 


26  INTRODUCTION. 

the  fourth  line  running  in  normal  form,,  and  the  fifth  again 
beginning  with  an  accent). 

2.  Rarely  in  the  second  foot,  1.  181  ;  occasionally  in  the  third, 
11.  16,  169,  219,  235,  527,  559  ;  less  often  in  the  fourth,  11.  89,  142, 
173,  1004. 

B.  Substitution  of  xxaa  for  xaxa  ;  not  so  common  as  in 
Sohrab  and  Rustum  :  11.  85,  182,  198,  225,  418. 

C.  Substitution  of  xxa  for  xa  (anapcestic  movement).  This 
occurs  quite  frequently  ;  note  the  following  lines  how  the  light- 
ness of  the  metre  harmonizes  with  the  thought  : 

"  Linger  with  vacillating  obedience,"  13. 

"  In  ever-highering  eagle-circles  up,"  21. 

"  Wept  from  her  sides  as  water  flowing  away,"  213. 

"  Melody  on  branch,  and  melody  in  mid-air,"  180. 

"  Would  hurry  thither,  and  when  he  saw  the  knights,"  511. 

"  Tumbled  it  ;  oilily  bubbled  up  the  mere,"  790. 

"  He  drave  his  enemy  backward  down  the  bridge,"  945. 

D.  Feminine  lines;  xax  f  or  xa  in  the  last  line.  E.g.,  11.  8, 
356,  566,  1155,  1169,  1246,  1366. 

The  three  songs  should  also  be  noted  :  11.  974-976  ;  1034-1036, 
1040-1043,  1049-1051  ;  1130-1132.  They  are  of  the  same  rhythm 
as  the  rest  of  the  poem,  and  consist  of  stanzas,  each  made  of  a 
couplet  and  a  third  line  of  the  nature  of  a  refrain. 

Sohrab  and  Rustum. — The  metre  of  Sohrab  and  Rustum 
is  also  blank  verse.  We  do  not  give  an  analysis  of  its  peculiari- 
ties, for  it  will  be  more  useful  for  the  pupil  to  go  over  the  differ- 
ent usages  and  compare  with  Gareth  and  Lynette.  Thus  it  will 
be  found  thai  the  ax  foot  occurs  often  at  the  beginning  of  the 
line,  but  that  there  are  no  such  repetitions  for  effect  as  in  Gareth 
mill  Li/nette,  11.  'XV.)  !)43.  There  are  not  so  many  substitutions  of 
the  xxa  foot,  bo  that  the  poem  has  a  somewhat  graver,  less  ani- 
mated motion,  as  suits  the  subject.  There  are  many  more  lines 
with  xxaa  for  xaxa,  as: 

"  And  tin-  fljst'  gray'  of  morning  filled  the  east,"  1.  1. 
"Was  dulled  :  for  he  slept'  light',  an  old  man's  sleep,"  1.  29. 

This   concentration  of   accents  takes  away  from  the  lightness 


METRE. 


27 


of  movement;  indeed  it  is  rather  more  like  the  usual  rhythm 
of  prose.  These  points  should  be  looked  up  and  exemplified  in 
the  poem. 

Horatius. — The  metre  of  Horatius  is  an  old  English  ballad- 
metre  made  more  regular.  That  metre  consisted  of  stanzas  of 
four  lines,  the  first  and  third  being  3xa  lines  with  feminine  end- 
ing, the  second  and  fourth  being  Zxa  ;  ax  and  xxa  feet  being 
often  substituted  for  the  xa  foot.  This  is  a  good  swinging  ballad- 
metre,  but  you  can  see  that  it  would  be  rather  tiresome  in  so  long 
a  poem  as  this  ;  there  would  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  stanzas  to  it. 
So  Macaulay  makes  some  changes,  as  follows  : 

1.  He  makes  the  regular  stanzas  of  eight  lines  instead  of  four. 
In  the  other  Lays,  especially  The  Battle  of  Lake  Regillus  and 
The  Prophecy  of  Capys,  he  makes  the  stanzas  of  very  variable 
length. 

2.  He  often  makes  the  stanzas  even  longer  by  introducing  a 
line  that  will  rhyme  with  one  of  the  lines  otherwise  unrhymed 
(either  the  third  or  seventh),  as  in  the  first  stanza. 

3.  He  often  introduces  more  than  one  line  in  such  cases,  as  in 
stanza  xxi,  giving  a  peculiar  effect.1  The  repetition  of  the  rhyme 
irives  us  a  prolonged  sustained  feeling.     Thus  in  stanza  xxi  : 

"  And  nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Doth  the  red  whirlwind  come  ; 
And  louder  still  and  still  more  loud—" 

Now  we  expect  a  line  rhyming  with  come :  but  we  do  not  get  it, 
nor  at  the  next  line.  Our  expectation  is  prolonged  in  a  way  that 
serves  to  harmonize  with  the  rolling  warcloud  and  the  long  array 
of  spears.  The  effect  may  be  observed  in  many  stanzas,  espe- 
cially in  xlix,  where  the  fourfold  rhyme  gives  especial  emphasis 
to  the  picture  of  the  fierce  old  bear,  the  type  of  Rome  at  bay. 

4.  He  lengthens  the  third  or  seventh  line  of  the  stanza  ;  some- 
times with  a  rhyme,  making  what  is  really  two  short  lines : 

"  Like  an  eagle's  nest,  hangs  on  the  crest." 

5.  We  have  also  the  ordinary  variations  of  iambic  verse,  as 
noted  above. 

>  Cf.  Sir  Launfal,  1. 167. 


2  -  INTRODUCTION. 

A.  ax  for  xa: 

"  Piled'  by  the  hands  of  gi'ants 
For  godlike  kings  of  old."    28,  29. 

B.  xxaa  for  xaxa,  generally  at  the  beginning'  of  the  line  : 

"  From  the  proud'  mart'  of  Pisne, 
Queen  of  the  western  waves." 

C.  xxa  for  xa   in  11.  12,  20,  24,  92,  etc. 

D.  Lines  1,  3,  5,  7  in  each  stanza  are  regularly  feminine. 
These  variations  break  up  the  regularity  which  might  prove 

monotonous  and  are  themselves  pleasant  in  effect. 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal. — The  metre  of  the  poem  is  not 
wholly  regular.  It  begins  with  a  series  of  5xa  lines,  but 'with 
no  anapaestic  (xxa)  variation  till  the  eighth  line,  in  wavering.  It 
continues  with  4xa  verses,  lighter  in  character  because  shorter. 
In  the  following  lines  (21-32)  both  rhyme  and  rhythm  are  smarter, 
more  jingly,  we  might  almost  say  ;  the  change  of  form  (the  fre- 
quent anapaests  and  double  rhymes)  comes  to  suit  the  transition 
to  the  semi-satirieal  tone.  But  the  same  light  dancing  rhythm 
and  the  same  double  rhymes  suit  the  glowing  lines  on  summer. 
Read  11.  33-79  and  see  how  the  rhythm  seems  to  move  along.  In 
the  lines  that  follow,  the  movement  is  a  little  more  regular,  for 
the  thought  is  graver  and  more  serious.  So  the  poem  goes  on 
with  a  certain  irregularity  of  rhythm  ;  sometimes  we  have  a 
slow -moving  4.ra  lacking  the  first  syllable  (11. 127, 154),  sometimes 
we  have  the  long  and  rapid  lines  (174,  178),  or  the  shorter,  but 
quite  as  swift  lines  (46,  113)  ;  the  rhyme  varies  too,  sometimes 
coming  in  couplets,  sometimes  alternately  ;  sometimes  simple 
single  rhymes,  sometimes  dancing  double  rhymes  (37,  38;  44,  46). 
The  rhythm  and  rhyme  are  constantly  varied  as  the  mood  of  the 
poet  changes. 

For  it  is  hardly  to  be  thought  that  Lowell  planned  out  before- 
hand the  modulations  and  movements  of  his  verse  and  his 
thought  ;  that  docs  not  seem  to  have  been  his  way  of  working. 
This  poem,  at  least,  he  is  said  to  have  written  in  two  days  :  and 
it  w  as  rarely  his  habit  to  revise  his  work  carefully.  It  would 
seem,  therefore,  as  though  the  truth  were  something  like  this  : 


DICTION.  29 

When  the  poet  was  in  the  full  flush  of  his  exuberant  thought  of 
springtime,  the  words  came  hurrying,  and  no  lines  would  suit 
him  which  had  not  life  and  movement  to  them  ;  but  in  graver 
moments,  when  his  mind  paused  a  moment,  as  it  always  does  in 
thought,  his  hand  paused  too,  and  instinctively  his  verse  took  a 
slower  movement,  which,  as  he  read  the  lines  he  had  written,  he 
saw  was  good. 


DICTION. 


The  student  of  the  note  on  poetic  diction  in  the  Introduction 
to  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake  (No.  9  of  this  Series)  will  notice 
some  differences  between  the  points  noted  there  and  the  chief 
points  in  these  poems.  Yet  the  principles  are  practically  the 
same. 

Garetb  and  Lynette. — There  are  a  good  many  archaic  ex- 
pressions, for  the  story  is  of  olden  time.  Thou,  thee,  ye,  and 
verbal  forms  in  -st  and  -th  may  be  found  in  abundance  ;  so.  also, 
be  as  indicative  present  (11.  237,  238,  261,  613),  and  preterites  in  a, 
as  brake,  1.  57 ;  drave,  1.  201 ;  sjiake,  1.  295.  The  following  words 
also  occur  frequently  :  an,  11.  37,  40,  50,  98,  142,  252,  etc. ;  so, 
11.  131,  263,  268,  339,  507,  588,  etc. ;  save,  11.  107,  136  :  albeit,  11.  82, 
121;  whereof,  1.  66;  saving,  261;  anon,  1.  193;  lo,  1.  73.  So  also 
glamour  (magic),  1.  202;  boon,  1.  327;  mien,  1.  443;  casque,  1.  665; 
reave,  1.  411  ;  deem,  1.  120  ;  slay,  371  ;  crave,  861;  and  such  uses 
as  were  (=  would  be),  11.  17,  51;  had  (=  would  have),  11.  366,  821 ; 
shoidd  (=  were  to),  1.  226.  Besides  the  fact  that  the  poem  is  of 
olden  time  there  are  other  reasons  for  the  archaic  diction.  One  is 
that  Tennyson  naturally  has  Malory's  Morte  d' Arthur  in  mind, 
which  is  full  of  ancient  expressions  :  brexvis,  avail  (advantage), 
lightly  (quickly),  worship  (honor).  Another  influence  would 
seem  to  be  that  of  Spenser,  ruth,  wreak,  bought,  trenchant, 
clomb.1  There  is  none  of  the  conventional  diction  {sylvan  bowers, 
etc.),  such  as  we  sometimes  find  in  poetry.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  extreme  simplicity  in  the  diction,  coming  perhaps  from 
the  large  proportion  of  words  of  old  English  origin  in  it. 

There  are  some  abbreviations,  but  less  than  in  The  Lady  of  the 
Lake. 

1  G.  C.  Macaulay's  edition  of  Gareth  and  Lynette. 


30  INTRODUCTION. 

There  is  a  strong  tendency  toward  specific  words,  not  so  much 
toward  figurative  words.     Thus  : 


•- 


.    .    .    "  Gareth,  in  a  showerful  spring 

Stared  at  the  spate." 

Here  the  poet  has  compounded  the  word  showerful  to  describe 
spring  ;  the  word  gives  a  very  definite  idea  ;  rainy  would  mean 
something  else.  He  says  stared  instead  of  looked,  a  more  gen- 
eral word,  and  uses  the  Scottish  word  spate  instead  of  flood. 
Figurative  words  are  not  so  common  as  archaic  words.  The  stu- 
dent  should  note  such  examples  as 

"to  grace 
Thy  climbing  life,  and  cherish  my  prone  year,"  93,  94. 

Some  peculiarities  should  be  mentioned  which  did  not  occur  in 
the  note  on  diction  alluded  to. 

Coined  compounds,  often  alliterative  :  gloomy -gladed,  1.  777; 
full-fair,  1.  825;  bone-battered,  1024;  May-music,  1.  1054;  deep- 
di m pled,  1.  1063;  fast-falling,  1.  90 ;  storm-strengthened,  1.677: 
foul-fleshed,  1.  729;  princely-proud,  1. 158  ;  tourney -skill,  1.  1016; 
shield-lions,  1.  1186;  lance-splintering,  1.  1273;  slender- shafted, 
1.  3;  silver-misty,  1.  186;  wan-sallow,  1.  444. 

So  also  does  he  use  such  obvious  derivatives  as  discaged,  1.  20  ; 
fluent,  1.  454;  decrescent,  increscent,  1.  519  ;  ever-highering,  1. 
21  ;  co-twisted,  1.  222  ;  youthhood,  1.  566  ;   waveringly,  1.  914. 

Expressions  like  these  come  from  the  poetic  desire  for  com- 
pressed  speech  ;  it  is  more  stinking  to  express  one's  thought  in  a 
few  words  than  in  a  longer  roundabout  expression.  Some  writers 
have  thought  that  this  feeling  for  condensed  expression  was  the 
explanation  for  the  poetic  use  of  abbreviation. 

Sohrab  and  Rustum. — The  diction  of  Sohrab  and  Rustum 
will  be  found  to  have  less  archaism  than  that  of  Gareth  and 
Lunette.  The  pronouns  thou,  thine,  ye ;  the  forms  in  -st  and  -th  ; 
preterites  in  a,  as  spake,  1. 149  ;  sate,  1.  199;  in  o,  as  shore,  1.  497  ; 
chire,  1.  496  ;  certain  usages  like  the  avoidance  of  the  auxiliary, 
aa  in  knew  not,  1.  283;  inversion,  as  in  soon  be  that  day,  1.  836 — 
these  are  merely  the  signs  of  a  diction  which,  like  that  of  the 


DICTION-.  31 

Bible,  is  distinguished  and  elevated  above  common  speech,  but  not 
especially  characteristic  of  ancient  time.  There  is  an  absolute 
lack  of  old-fashioned  "poetic  diction,"1  nor  are  abbreviations 
common  ;  o'er  and  "'tis  occur  several  times,  but  there  are  few 
others.  To  one  who  has  been  reading  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  or 
The  Idylls  of  the  King,  the  diction  of  this  poem  will  seem  very 
plain  and  colorless.  It  is,  indeed,  far  more  nearly  than  either  of 
those  poems,  the  language  of  prose.  Matthew  Arnold  greatly 
admired  the  poet  Wordsworth,  and  one  of  Wordsworth's  poetic 
principles  was  that  the  words  of  poetry  should  be  the  same  as  the 
words  of  prose.  In  this  poem  Matthew  Arnold  is  strongly  classi- 
cal in  his  workmanship,  as  Tennyson  and  Lowell  are  romantic. 
The  difference  between  classic  work  and  romantic  work  has 
already  been  explained  :  here  it  will  be  enough  to  say  that 
although  Arnold  uses  the  simple,  unadorned,  direct  language  of 
prose,  yet  bis  diction  is  not  what  we  call  prosaic  ;  his  language  is 
as  far  from  the  careless  familiarity  of  our  every-day  conversation 
as  a  classic  statue  is  from  the  careless  attitudes  of  our  intimate 
every-day  life.  His  desire  is  to  give  a  clear  and  definite  concep- 
tion of  a  noble  subject,  a  conception  that  shall  have  the  distmcf. 
and  sharply-cut  outline  of  a  great  mountain  against  the  blue  sky. 
It  is  necessary  that  his  language  should  be  not  quite  that  of 
common  speech  ;  hence  he  uses  expressions  which  have  a  gravity 
and  dignity  to  us  because  we  associate  them  with  sacred  and 
reverent  utterance.  But  he  does  not  otherwise  use  minor  devices 
of  language,  for  they  might  distract  his  readers  from  the  main 
object.2 

As  it  is  his  purpose  to  be  clear  cut  and  sure,  he  is  definite  and 
specific  in  his  wording  as  in  his  pictures.  Peran-Wisa,  rising  from 
the  warm  rugs,  puts  on  a  woollen  coat  and  a  black  sbeepskin  cap, 
and  over  all  a  white  cloak,  ties  his  sandals  to  his  feet  and  takes  a 
staff  in  his  hand.  We  have  here  a  distinct  imagination.  With 
this  compare  the  description  of  Gareth,  who  dropped  his  long 
cloak  and  stood  forth  as  brilliant  as  a  dragon-fly  issuing  from  a 
cocoon  (11.  667-674).  This  is  a  more  brilliant  piece  of  imagina- 
tion, but  not  so  distinct.  Note  the  description  of  the  three  brother 
knights  in  Gareth  and  Lynette :  the  Morning-Star  reflected  in 

1  Introduction  to  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  5  Thus  he  has  but  few  figures,  and  we  have 
p.  x.  already  seen  (p.  19)  what  is  their  effect. 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

the  clear  stream,  11.  911-916  ;  the  Noonday  Sun  almost  blinding 
the  beholders,  11.  1000-1002  ;  the  Star  of  Evening,  whose  garb  of 
hardened  skins  we  hear  of  in  the  words  of  Lynette,  11.  1065-1069  ; 
the  black  knight,  Death,  "crowned  with  fleshless  laughter," 
1.  1348.  These  are  imaginative  descriptions,  but  the  figures  lack 
the  clear  and  classic  outline  of  Rustum  at  the  table.  11.  196-200  ; 
of  Ruksh,  11.  272-279  ;  of  the  tomb  of  Sohrab,  11.  788-791.  To  this 
desire  for  clear  definite]  less  belongs  Arnold's  use  of  specific  words, 
as  silt,  1.  769;  caked,  1.  736;  smirched,  1.  701;  Jt addling,  1.  563; 
and  so  on. 

Horatius. — The  diction  of  Horatius  is  marked  chiefly  by  its 
exact  and  specific  character.  The  student  will  easily  observe  the 
extent  to  which  the  diction  is  archaic;  thou,  ye,  spake,  bare; 
some  few  poetic  forms,  as  morn,  1.  69  ;  mart,  1.  34  ;  yore,  1.  73  ;  I 
wis,  1.  138  (incorrect  for  ywiss);  I  ween,  1.  518;  hied,  1.  145;  lo,  1. 
243  ;  smote,  1.  279  ;  in  all  we  have  a  slightly  archaic  coloring. 
It  will  also  be  observed  that  the  diction  is  not  figurative '  ;  the 
poet  states  directly  what  he  has  to  say  much  as  one  would  say  it 
in  prose.  But  the  diction  is  specific  ;  and  that  is  because  for 
everything  that  he  said  Macaulay  had  an  idea  in  mind  that  was 
very  definite  indeed,  and  for  every  idea  that  he  wished  to  express 
he  had  the  right  words.     So  in  the  lines 


"  Shall  plunge  the  struggling  sheep,"  61. 
"  This  year,  the  must  shall  foam,"  63. 


The  specific  word  in  the  first  case  fills  out  the  picture  ;  in  the 
second  case  it  is  the  one  right  word  to  express  an  idea  which 
would  otherwise  demand  a  roundabout  expression.  Often  the 
specific  words  add  more  than  one  would  think  at  iir.st.  Thus,  in 
the  lines  following,  tho  specific  words  convey  a  considerable 
meaning  to  one  who  understands  them.  See  the  notes  in  each 
case:  1.  37.  fair-haired;  1.  115,  skins;  1.  144,  girded;  1.  196, 
ivory;  1.  277,  Commons;  1.  360,  litter;  1.  470,  tawny. 

Macaulay'a  greatest  power  in  poetry,  as  in  prose,  was  the  double 
power  of  realization.  He  realized  his  own  ideas  in  mind  :  that 
is,  he  made  his  imaginations  take  form  as  if  they  had  been  actual 

1  Nor  arc  there  many  figure*  ;  see  p.  17,  note. 


DICTION.  33 

experiences,  he  made  things  which  had  been  only  to  others  be 
as  though  they  had  been  to  him  ;  that  in  tbe  first  place  ;  and  in 
the  second,  he  expressed  his  realized  ideas,  so  that  they  come  as 
nearly  as  may  be  to  be  real  to  the  reader.  Such  is  Macaulay's 
chief  power  as  a  poet — that  he  makes  that  which  is  not  seem  as 
if  it  were  real. 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal.— So  far  as  archaic  words  are 
concerned,  Sir  Launfal  is  not  absolutely  uniform;  it  will  be  good 
exercise  to  find  out  how  and  why.  In  regard  to  the  following 
words,  mention  whether  or  not  it  is  an  archaism,  whether  the 
archaism  occurs  throughout  the  poem,  and,  if  not,  see  if  the  idea 
explains  the  use  of  the  form. 

1.  What  reason  may  be  given  for  the  use  of 

(a)  Thou,  11.  282,  283  ;  Thee,  11.  280,  287,  320  ;  Thy,  1. 
284  ? 

(b)  Didst,  1.  319  ? 

(c)  Lo,  1.  315  ;  Behold,  1.  318  ? 

2.  Is  there  any  reason  for  doth,  1.  10 ;  hath,  1.  23 ;  instead  of  does 
and  has  f  The  other  verbs  in  the  poem  do  not  have  the  ending 
in  -th. 

3.  Is  there  anything  to  be  said  of  list,  1.  3  ;  lay,  1.  4  ? 

4.  Of  an  alms,  1.  273  ;  me,  1.  162  ? 

5.  Are  there  any  abbreviations  in  the  poem  ?  Are  they  con- 
versational or  not  ?     Cf.  11.  29,  47. 

The  diction  is  rather  figurative  than  specific,  as  Macaulay  in 
Horatius  is  specific  rather  than  figurative.1  The  two  qualities 
are  not  contrary  to  each  other,  but  you  can  see  easily  enough 
that  a  man  who  is  chiefly  bent  on  getting  an  exact  view  of  any- 
thing will  not  be  likely  to  think  of  comparing  it  to  something 
else ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  who,  when  he  mentions  any- 
thing, always  thinks  also  of  something  else,  will  not  be  so  likely 
to  be  definite  as  to  the  thing  itself.  Most  poets,  however,  have 
something  of  both  gifts,  the  imaginative  vision  tbat  calls  up  the 
vivid  picture,  and  also  the  imaginative  comparison  that  brings  to 
mind  some  resemblance.  In  Lowell  this  latter  power  was  the 
more  developed.  Not  only  is  this  poem  full  of  more  extended 
figures,  but  there  are  many  tropes,  or  figures,  implied  in  single 

1  We  have  already  compared  the  frequency  of  more  extended  figures. 
3 


3-i  INTRODUCTION. 

words.  Take  the  well-known  passage,  11.  33-79,  and  see  how 
many  comparisons  are  suggested  by  single  words.  This  "  figured 
speech,"  as  we  may  call  it,  in  Lowell,  came,  or,  rather,  was  encour- 
aged, by  his  wide  reading  of  Shakespeare  and  the  Old  English 
Dramatists. 


Besides  some  little  knowledge  of  figures,  of  metre,  and  of  diction, 
you  may  gain  from  what  has  gone  before  one  other  thing,  a 
lesson  in  method.  The  preceding  sections  may  at  first  sight  seem 
complicated  and  unnecessarily  detailed.  That  is  chiefly  because 
the  facts  of  the  poetry  are  visually  cited  to  exemplify  the  state- 
ments made.  This  is  the  best  way  of  realizing  one's  knowledge. 
It  is  of  no  great  value  merely  to  know,  for  instance,  that  Tenny- 
son's diction  in  the  Idylls  is  somewhat  archaic  :  the  thing  im- 
portant is  to  know  that  such  a  statement  includes  such  facts  as  are 
cited  on  p.  29.  It  is  of  little  value  to  know  that  the  metre  of 
Horatius  is  based  on  the  old  ballad-metre  :  you  want  to  know 
how  it  is  like  it  and  how  unlike,  as  explained  on  p.  27.  Nor 
should  you  feel  that  you  are  merely  gaining  information  from 
somebody  else.  This  is  the  sort  of  thing  you  can  do  for  your- 
selves: there  are  plenty  of  examples  besides  those  cited.  You  can 
search  and  remember  and  compare.  Keep  your  eye  on  the  texts 
of  the  poems  :  so  will  you  learn  to  know  them.  And  that  is  the 
first  thing  in  studying  poetry  :  to  know.  There  are  other  things 
to  do  with  poetry  besides  studying  it ;  but  if  you  study,  your  object 
is  to  know. 


POEMS  OF  KNIGHTLY  ADVENTURE. 


GARETH  AND  LYNETTE. 

The  last  tall  son  of  Lot  and  Bellicent, 
And  tallest,  Gareth,  in  a  showerful  spring 
Scared  at  the  spate.1     A  slender-shafted  Pine 
Lost  footing,  fell,  and  so  was  whirl'd  away. 
5  "  How  he  went  down,"  said  Gareth,  "  as  a  false  knight 
Or  evil  king  before  my  lance  if  lance 
Were  mine  to  use — 0  senseless  cataract, 
Bearing  all  down  in  thy  precipitancy — 
And  yet  thou  art  but  swollen  with  cold  snows 

10  And  mine  is  living2  blood:  thou  dost  His  will, 
The  Maker's,  and  not  knowest,  and  I  that  know, 
Have  strength  and  wit,  in  my  good  mother's  hall 
Linger  with  vacillating  obedience, 
Prison 'd,  and  kept  and  coax'd  and  Avhistled  to — 

15  Since  the  good  mother  holds  me  still  a  child! 
Good  mother  is  bad  mother  unto  me! 
A  worse  were  better;  yet  no  worse  would  I. 
Heaven  yield  her  for  it,  but  in  me  put  force 
To  weary  her  ears  with  one  continuous  prayer, 

SO  Until  she  let  me  fly  discaged  to  sweep 
In  ever-highering  eagle-circles  up 
To  the  great  Sun  of  Glory,  and  thence  swoop 

1  Scotch  for  spring  torrent,  freshet. 

s  and  therefore  should  run  with  more  life  than  mere  water. 


36  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTUKE. 

Down  upon  all  things  base,  and  dash  them  dead, 

A  knight  of  Arthur,1  working  out  his  will, 
25  To  cleanse  the  world.     Why,  Gawain,2  when  he  came 

With  Modred  hither  in  the  summer  time, 

Ask'd  me  to  tilt  with  him,  the  proven  knight. 

Modred  for  want  of  worthier  was  the  judge. 

Then  I  so  shook  him  in  the  saddle,  he  said, 
30  'Thou  hast  half  prevail'd  against  me,'  said  so— he — 

Tho'  Modred  biting  his  thin  lips  was  mute, 

For  he  is  alway  sullen :  what  care  I  ?  " 

And  Gareth  went,  and  hovering  round  her  chair, 
Ask'd,  "  Mother,  tho'  ye  count  me  still  the  child, 

35  Sweet  mother,  do  ye  love  the  child  ?  "     She  laugh 'd, 
"  Thou  art  but  a  Avild  goose  to  question  it." 
"  Then,  mother,  an3  ye  love  the  child,"  he  said, 
"  Being  a  goose  and  rather  tame  than  wild, 
Hear  the  child's  story."     "  Yea,  my  well-beloved, 

40  An  'twere  but  of  the  goose  and  golden  eggs." 

And  Gareth  answer'd  her  with  kindling  eyes, 
"  Nay,  nay,  good  mother,  but  this  egg  of  mine 
AVas  finer  gold  than  any  goose  can  lay ; 
For  this  an  Eagle,  a  royal  Eagle,  laid 

45  Almost  beyond  eye-reach,  on  such  a  palm 
As  glitters  gilded  in  thy  Book  of  Hours.4 
And  there  was  ever  haunting  round  the  palm 
A  lusty  youth,  but  poor,  who  often  saw 
The  splendor  sparkling  from  aloft,  and  thought 

50  '  An  I  could  climb  and  lay  my  hand  upon  it, 
Then  were  I  wealthier  than  a  leash  '  of  kings.' 

i  gee  p  jo  *  a   book  with    devotions    for    different 

a  Gawain  and  Modred  were  brothers  of  times  of  the  day. 

Gareth  and  nephews  of  King  Arthur.    The  •  A  leash  is  a  thong  to  hold  dogs.    Gareth 

first  appears  in  the  old  romances  as  the  type  uses  the  word  here  to  show  his  contempt 

of  knightly  courtesy,  the  other  as  the  type  for  kings  merely  as  men  of  wealth.    True 

of  the  treacherous,  villainous  knight.  kings  who  live  to  rule  righteously  he  reveres 


»if. 


and  admires. 


GARETH  AND   LYNETTE.  37 

But  ever  when  he  reach 'd  a  hand  to  climb- 
One,  that  had  loved  him  from  his  childh  »1,  caught 
And  stay'd  him,  '  Climb  not  lest  thou  break  thy  neck, 
55  I  charge  thee  by  my  love,'  and  so  the  boy, 

Sweet  mother,  neither  clomb,1  nor  brake  his  neck, 
But  brake  his  very  heart  in  pining  for  it, 
And  past  away." 

To  whom  the  mother  said, 
"  True  love,  sweet  son,  had  risk'd  himself  and  climb'd, 
60  And  handed  down  the  golden  treasure  to  him." 

And  Gareth  answer'd  her  with  kindling  eyes, 
"  Gold  ?  said  I  gold  ? — ay  then,  why  he,  or  she, 
Or  whosoe'er  it  was,  or  half  the  world 
Had  ventured — had  the  thing  I  spake  of  been 

€5  Mere  gold — but  this  was  all  of  that  true  steel, 
Whereof  they  forged  the  brand 2  Excalibur,3 
And  lightnings  play'd  about  it  in  the  storm, 
And  all  the  little  fowl  were  flurried  at  it, 
And  there  were  cries  and  clash ings  in  the  nest, 

70  That  sent  him  from  his  senses:  let  me  go."  * 

Then  Bellicent  bemoan'd  herself  and  said, 
"  Hast  thou  no  pity  upon  my  loneliness? 
Lo,  where  thy  father  Lot  beside  the  hearth 
Lies  like  a  log,  and  all  but  smoulder'd  out! 
75  For  ever  since  when  traitor  to  the  King 5 
He  fought  against  him  in  the  Barons'  war, 
And  Arthur  gave  him  back  his  territory, 
His  age  hath  slowly  droopt,  and  now  lies  there 

1  archaic  past  tense  of  climb.  4  Notice  the  effect  of  the  three  simple 

5  sword.  words  coming  at  the  end  of  the  impassioned 

3  the  famous  sword  of  Arthur,  given  him  exclamation. 

by   the   Lady   of   the  Lake    (Coming   of  5  There  had  been  those  who  did  not  allow 

Arthur,  p.  45,  in  Enoch  Arden  and  other  Arthur's  title  and  therefore  banded  together 

Poems,  No.  6  in  this  series).  against  him.    See  1.  120. 


51900 


g8  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

A  yet-warm  corpse,  and  yet  unburiable, 

80  No  more;  nor  sees,  nor  hears,  nor  speaks,  nor  knows. 
And  both  thy  brethren  are  in  Arthur's  hall, 
Albeit '  neither  loved  with  that  full  love 
I  feel  for  thee,  nor  worthy  such  a  love : 
Stay  therefore  thou ;  red  berries  charm  the  bird, 

85  And  thee,  mine  innocent,  the  jousts,2  the  wars, 
Who  never  knewest  finger-ache,  nor  pang 
Of  wrench'd  or  broken  limb — an  often  chance 
In  those  brain-stunning  shocks,  and  tourney-falls, 
Frights  to  my  heart;  but  stay:  follow  the  deer 

90  By  these  tall  firs  and  our  fast-falling  burns; 3 
So  make  thy  manhood  mightier  day  by  day; 
Sweet  is  the  chase:  and  I  will  seek  thee  out 
Some  comfortable 4  bride  and  fair,  to  grace 
Thy  climbing  life,  and  cherish  my  prone  year, 

95  Till  fallkig  into  Lot's  forgetfulness 
I  know  not  thee,  myself,  nor  anything. 
Stay,  my  best  son!  ye  are  yet  more  boy  than  man." 

Then  Gareth,  "  An  ye  hold  me  yet  for  child, 
Hear  yet  once  more  the  story  of  the  child. 

100  For,  mother,  there  was  once  a  King,  like  ours; 8 
The  prince  his  heir,  when  tall  and  marriageable. 
Ask'd  for  a  bride;  and  thereupon  the  King 
Set  two  before  him.     One  was  fair,  strong,  arm'd — 
But  to  be  won  by  force — and  many  men 

105  Desired  her;  one,  good  lack,6  no  man  desired. 
And  these  were  the  conditions  of  the  King: 
That  save 7  he  won  the  first  by  force,  he  needs 
Must  wed  that  other,  whom  no  man  desired, 
A  red-faced  bride  who  knew  herself  so  vile, 

l  although.  6  Gareth  thinks  of  Arthur  offering  lnm 

«  friendly  tournaments.  euch  a  choice. 

»  Scotch  for  brooks.  '  an  old  colloquial  exclamation. 

<  cheerful  and  agreeable.  7  except,  unlesB. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  39 

110  That  evermore  she  loug'd  to  hide  herself, 
Nor  fronted  man  or  woman  eye  to  eye — 
Yea — some  she  cleaved  to,  but  they  died  of  her. 
And  one — they  call'd  her  Fame;  and  one,  0  Mother, 
How  can  ye  keep  me  tether'd  to  you — Shame ! 

115  Man  am  I  grown,  a  man's  work  must  I  do. 
Follow  the  deer?  follow  the  Christ,  the  King,1 
Live  pure,  speak  true,  right  wrong,  follow  the  King — 
Else,  wherefore  born  ?  " 

To  whom  the  mother  said, 
"  Sweet  son,  for  there  be  many  who  deem  him  not, 

120  Or  will  not  deem  him,  wholly  proven  Kiug — 
Albeit  in  mine  own  heart  I  knew  him  King,2 
When  I  was  frequent  witli  him  in  my  youth, 
And  heard  him  Kingly  speak,  and  doubted  him 
No  more  than  he,  himself;  but  felt  him  mine, 

125  Of  closest  kin  to  me;  yet — wilt  thou  leave 
Thine  easeful  bidding  here,  and  risk  thine  all, 
Life,  limbs,  for  one  that  is  not  proven  King? 
Stay,  till  the  cloud  that  settles  round  his  birth 
Hath  lifted  but  a  little.     Stay,  sweet  son." 

130       And  Gareth  answer 'd  quickly,  "  Not  an  hour, 
So 3  that  ye  yield  me — I  will  walk  thro'  fire, 
Mother,  to  gain  it — your  full  leave  to  go. 
Nob  proven,  who  swept  the  dust  of  ruin'd  Eome 
From  off  the  threshold  of  the  realm,  and  crush 'd 

135  The  Idolaters,  and  made  the  people  free  ? 

Who  should  be  King  save  him  who  makes  us  free?  "  4 

J  Arthur  was  preeminently  a  Christian  3  if. 

king.    Hence  his  knighthood  sang  "The  4  Arthur  had  led  the  British  against  the 

King  shall  follow  Christ,  and  we  the  King."  Romans  and  against  the  heathen  Saxons. 

2  Bellicent  knew  him  for  her  brother,  the  See  Coming  of  Arthur,  pp.  52,  53,  of  Enoch 

son  of  Uther,  the  former  king.  Arden  and  other  Poems,  No.  6  in  this  series. 


40  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

So  when  the  Queen,  who  long  had  sought  in  vain 
To  break  him  from  the  intent  to  which  he  grew, 
Found  her  son's  will  unwaveringly  one, 

140  She  answer'd  craftily,  "  Will  ye  walk  thro'  fire?* 
Mho  walks  thro'  fire  will  hardly  heed  the  smoke. 
Ay,  go  then,  an  ye  must :  only  one  proof, 
Before  thou  ask  the  King  to  make  thee  knight, 
Of  thine  obedience  and  thy  love  to  me, 

145  Thy  mother, — I  demand." 

And  Gareth  cried, 
"  A  hard  one,  or  a  hundred,  so  I  go. 
Kay — quick!  the  proof  to  prove  me  to  the  quick!  "  2 

But  slowly  spake  the  mother,  looking  at  him, 
"Prince,3  thou  shalt  go  disguised  to  Arthur's  hall, 
150  And  hire  thyself  to  serve  for  meats  and  drinks 
Among  the  scullions  and  the  kitchen-knaves, 
And  those  that  hand  the  dish  across  the  bar. 
Xor  shalt  thou  tell  thy  name  to  any  one. 
And  thou  shalt  serve  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day."  * 


155       For  so  the  Queen  believed  that  when  her  son 
Beheld  his  only  way  to  glory  lead 
Low  down  thro'  villain  6  kitchen- vassalage,4 
Her  own  true  Gareth  was  too  princely-proud 
To  pass  thereby:  so  should  he  rest  with  her, 

160  Closed  in  her  castle  from  the  sound  of  arms. 

Silent  awhile  was  Gareth, 'then  replied, 
"  The  thrall  in  person  may  be  free  in  soul, 

1  Bellicent  quickly  takes  up  his  offer.  3  being  grandson  of  old  King  Fther. 

5  Quick  originally  meant  living,  as  in  the  *  "  A  twelvemonth  and  a  day"  is  a  fa- 
expression  "the  quick  and  the  dead."    We  vorite  expression  in  the  old  romances.    It 
speak  now  of   "the  quick  of  the  finger-  comes  originally  frrrn  the  law. 
nails."     "To  the  quick"  means   "to  the  6  Villain    formerly  meant  no  more  than 
most  sensitive  part."  low,  vulgar.             •  service  in  the  kitchen. 


GARETH   AND    LYNETTE.  41 

And  I  shall  see  the  jousts.     Thy  son  am  I, 
And  since  thou  art  ray  mother,  must  obey. 
165  I  therefore  yield  me  freely  to  thy  will; 

For  hence  will  I,1  disguised,  and  hire  myself 
To  serve  with  scullions  and  with  kitchen-knaves; 
Nor  tell  my  name  to  any — no,  not  the  King. ' ' 

Gareth  awhile  linger'd.     The  mother's  eye 

170  Full  of  the  wistful  fear  that  he  would  go, 

And  turning  toward  him  wheresoe'er  he  turn'd, 
Perplext  his  outward  purpose,  till  an  hour, 
When  waken'd  by  the  wind  which  with  full  voice 
Swept  bellowing  thro'  the  darkness  on  to  dawn, 

175  He  rose,  and  out  of  slumber  calling  two 

That  still 2  had  tended  on  him  from  his  birth, 
Before  the  wakeful  mother  heard  him,  went. 

The  three  were  clad  like  tillers  of  the  soil. 
Southward  they  set  their  faces."     The  birds  made 
180  Melody  on  branch,  and  melody  in  mid-air.3 

The  damp  hill-slopes  were  quicken'd  4  into  green, 
And  the  live  green  had  kindled  into  flowers, 
For  it  was  past  the  time  of  Easterday. 

So,  when  their  feet  were  planted  on  the  plain 
185  That  broaden'd  toward  the  base  of  Camelot,5 
Far  off  they  saw  the  silver-misty  morn 
Rolling  her  smoke  about  the  Eoyal  mount, 
That  rose  between  the  forest  and  the  field. 
At  times  the  summit  of  the  high  city  flash'd; 
190  At  times  the  spires  and  turrets  half-way  down 

Prick'd  thro'  the  mist;  at  times  the  great  gate  shone 

i  Hence  will  I  go.  *  brought  to  life.    See  1.  147. 

2  continually.  5  Camelot  was  one  of  the  chief  cities  of 

s  Notice  the  rhythm  of  the  line  and  the  Arthur,  and  a  favorite  place  for  holding  his 

alliteration  ;  it  harmonizes  with  the  subject,  court. 


42  POEMS    OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Only,  that  open'd  on  the  field  below: 
Anon,1  the  whole  fair  city  had  disappeared. 

Then  those  who  went  with  Gareth  were  amazed. 

195  One  crying,  "  Let  us  go  no  farther,  lord. 
Here  is  a  city  of  Enchanters,  built 
By  fairy  Kings."     The  second  echo'd  him, 
"  Lord,  we  have  heard  from  our  wise  men  at  home 
To  Northward,  that  this  King  is  not  the  King, 

200  But  only  changeling3  out  of  Fairyland, 
"Who  drave  the  heathen  hence  by  sorcery 
And  Merlin's  glamour."  3     Then  the  first  again, 
"  Lord,  there  is  no  such  city  anywhere. 
But  all  a  vision." 

Gareth  answer'd  them 
205  With  laughter,  swearing  he  had  glamour  enow ' 

In  his  own  blood,  his  princedom,  youth  and  hopes. 

To  plunge  old  Merlin  in  the  Arabian  sea; 

So  push'd  them  all  unwilling  towards  the  gate, 

And  there  was  no  gate  like  it  under  heaven; 
210  For  barefoot  on  the  keystone,  which  was  lined 

And  rippled  like  an  ever-fleeting  wave, 

The  Lady  of  the  Lake  6  stood:  all  her  dress 

"Wept  from  her  sides  as  water  flowing  away; 

But  like  the  cross  her  great  and  goodly  arms 
215  Stretch'd  under  all  the  cornice  and  upheld: 

And  drops  of  water  fell  from  cither  hand; 

And  down  from  one  a  sword  was  hung,  from  one 

1  soon,  in  a  little  while.  Lake  stands  for  the  Christian  Church  :  her 

2  The  old  superstition  was  that  the  fairies  dress,  like  water,  is  the  sacrament  of  bap- 
sometimes  stole  away  children,  leaving  in  tism  ;  the  sword  and  the  censer  typify  the 
their  place  "changelings,1'  as  they  were  militant  and  reverent  characteristics:  the 
called,  beings  of  a  strange,  unearthly  nature,  fish    was    a     sacred    emblem    among    the 

3  the  old  word  for  magic.  early  Christians,  for  the  word  for  fith  in 
*  enough.  Greek  ismadeup  of  theinitialsof  the  Greek 
6  The  sculpture  on  the  gate  is  symbolic,  as     words  for  "Jesus  Christ,  Son  of  God,  the 

is  much  else  in  the  Idylls.    The  Lady  of  the     Saviour.11 


GARETH  AND   LYNETTE.  43 

A  censer,  either  worn  with  wind  and  storm; 

And  o'er  her  breast  floated  the  sacred  fish ; 
220  And  in  the  space  to  left  of  her,  and  right, 

Were  Arthur's  wars  in  weird  devices  done, 

Xew  things  and  old  co-twisted,'  as  if  Time 

Were  nothing,  so  in  Vetera  tely,2  that  men 

Were  giddy  gazing  there;  and  over  all 
225  High  on  the  top  were  those  three  Queens,3  the  friends 

Of  Arthur,  who  should  help  him  at  his  need. 

Then  those  with  Gareth  for  so  long  a  space 
Stared  at  the  figures,  that  at  last  it  seem'd 
The  dragon-boughts 4  and  elvish  emblemings 
230  Began  to  move,  seethe,  twine  and  curl:  they6  call'd 
To  Gareth,  "  Lord,  the  gateway  is  alive." 

And  Gareth  likewise  on  them  fixt  his  eyes 
So  long,  that  ev'n  to  him  they  seem'd  to  move. 
Out  of  the  city  a  blast  of  music  peal'd. 
235  Back  from  the  gate  started  the  three,  to  whom 
From  out  thereunder  came  an  ancient  man, 
Long-bearded,  saying,  "  Who  be  ye,  my  sons?  " 

Then  Gareth,  "  We  be  6  tillers  of  the  soil, 
Who  leaving  share '  in  furrow  come  to  see 

240  The  glories  of  our  King:  but  these,  my  men 
(Your  city  moved  so  weirdly  in  the  mist), 
Doubt  if  the  King  be  King  at  all,  or  come 
From  Fairyland;  and  whether  this  be  built 
By  magic,  and  by  fairy  Kings  and  Queens; 

245  Or  whether  there  be  any  city  at  all, 

1  twisted  together.  4  the    folds  (boughts)    of    the    dragon's 

2  inextricably.  tall. 

3  often  mentioned  in  the  Idylls  of  the         *  his  two  companions. 
King,  especially  in  the    Coming  and  the         *  See  p.  29. 
Passing  of  Arthur.  7  ploughshare. 


44  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTUKE. 

Or  all  a  vision;  and  this  mnsic  now 

Hath  scared  them  both,  but  tell  thou  these  the  truth." 

Then  that  old  Seer  made  answer  playing  on  him ' 
And  saying,  "  Son,  I  have  seen  the  good  ship  cail 

250  Keel  upward  and  mast  downward  in  the  heavens, 
And  solid  turrets  topsy-turvy  in  air; 
And  here  is  truth;  but  an  it  please  thee  not, 
Take  thou  the  truth  as 2  thou  hast  told  it  me. 
For  truly,  as  thou  sayest,  a  Fairy  King 

255  And  Fairy  Queens  have  built  the  city,  son; 
They  came  from  out  a  sacred  mountain-cleft 
Toward  the  sunrise,  each  with  harp  in  hand, 
And  built  it  to  the  music  of  their  harps.* 
And  as  thou  sayest,  it  is  enchanted,  son, 

260  For  there  is  nothing  in  it  as  it  seems 

Saving  the  King; 4  tho'  some  there  be  that  hold 
The  King  a  shadow,  and  the  city  real : 6 
Yet  take  thou  heed  of  him,  for,  so6  thou  pass 
Beneath  this  archway,  then  wilt  thou  become 

265  A  thrall  to  his  enchantments,  for  the  King 
Will  bind  thee  by  such  vows,  as  is  a  shame 
A  man  should  not  be  bound  by,  yet  the  which 
No  man  can  keep; 7  but,  so  thou  dread  to  swear, 
Pass  not  beneath  this  gateway,  but  abide 

270  Without,  among  the  cattle  of  the  field. 
For,  an  ye  heard  a  music,  like  enow 
They  are  building  still,  seeing  the  city  is  built 

i  trying  him,  and  making  game  of  him.  6  Some  thought  the   king's   ways  wr-rr- 

»  in  the  fame  manner  ;  that  is,  untruly,  foolishness  and  the  way  of  the  world  about 

So  in  1.  283  Merlin  mocks  Gareth  as  Gareth  him  the  true  way. 

had  mocked  him.  *  if ;  as  in  1.  131  and  elsewhere. 

>  In  Greek  legend  the  walls  of  Thebes  7  He  means  that  the  ideals  of  the  king  are 

arose  to  the  music  of  Amphion.  so  noble  that  nobody  could  refuse  them,  yel 

*  The  king  alone  was  what  he  appeared  so  hard  to  attain  them  that  everybody  must 

to  be.    The  others  all  concealed,  under  their  make  some  failure.    Yet  Gareth,  like  all 

noble  exterior,  some  touch  of  evil,  though  finer  souls  (not  "  cattle  of  the  field,"  1.  270), 

never  so  slight  makes  the  attempt. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  45 

To  music,  therefore  never  built  at  all, 
And  therefore  built  forever."  ' 

Gareth  spake 
"2T5  Anger'd,  "  Old  Master,  reverence  thine  own  beard 
That  looks  as  white  as  utter 2  truth,  and  seems 
Well  nigh  as  long  as  thou  art  statured  tall ! 
Why  mockest  thou  the  stranger  that  hath  been 
To  thee  fair-spoken  ?  " 

But  the  Seer  replied, 

280  "  Know  ye  not  then  the  Kiddling  of  the  Bards?" 
'  Confusion,  and  illusion,  and  relation, 
Elusion,  and  occasion,  and  evasion  ?  ' 
I  mock  thee  not  but  as  thou  mockest  me,4 
And  all  that  see  thee,  for  thou  art  not  who 

285  Thou  seemest,  but  I  know  thee  who  thou  art.5 
And  now  thou  goest  up  to  mock  the  King, 
Who  cannot  brook  the  shadow  of  any  lie." 

Unmockingly  the  mocker  ending  here 
Turn'd  to  the  right,  and  past  along  the  plain; 
290  Whom  Gareth  looking  after,  said,  "  My  men, 
Our  one  white  lie 6  sits  like  a  little  ghost 
Here  on  the  threshold  of  our  enterprise. 
Let  love  be  blamed  for  it,  not  she,  nor  I: 
Well,  we  will  make  amends." 

With  all  good  cheer 
295  He  spake  and  laugh'd,  then  enteral  with  his  twain 
Camelot,  a  city  of  shadowy  palaces, 
And  stately,  rich  in  emblem  and  the  work 

1  Because  Arthur's  rule  is  founded  upon  *  the    ancient  Welsh  poets  :    a  part   of 
noble  ideals  it  is  not  easy  to  think  of  it  as  their  poetry  consisted  of  riddles  in  verse, 
having  been  made,  and  yet  for  this  same  *  See  1.  253.                     6  See  Luke  iv.  34. 
reason  it  cannot  pass  away.  «  The  "  one  white  lie  "  was  pretending  to 

2  absolute.  be  what  he  was  not. 


46  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Of  ancient  Kings  who  did  their  days  in  stone; ' 

Which  Merlin's  hand,  the  Mage  at  Arthur's  court, 
300  Knowing  all  the  arts,  had  touch'd  and  everywhere 

At  Arthur's  ordinance,  tipt  with  lessening  peak 

And  pinnacle,  and  had  made  it  spire  to  heaven. 

And  ever  and  anon  a  knight  would  pass 

Outward,  or  inward  to  the  hall :  his  arms 
305  Clash'd;  and  the  sound  was  good  to  Gareth's  ear. 

And  out  of  bower  and  casement  shyly  glanced 

Eyes  of  pure  women,  wholesome  stars  of  love; 

And  all  about  a  healthful  people  stept 

As  in  the  presence  of  a  gracious  king.* 

310       Then  into  hall  Gareth  ascending  heard 

A  voice,  the  voice  of  Arthur,  and  beheld 

Far  over  heads  in  that  long-vaulted  hall 

The  splendor  of  the  presence  of  the  King 

Throned,  and  delivering  doom  3 — and  look'd  no  more — 
315  But  felt  his  young  heart  hammering  in  his  ears. 

And  thought,  "  For  this  half -shadow  of  a  lie 

The  truthful  King  will  doom  me  when  I  speak." 

Yet  pressing  on,  tho'  all  in  fear  to  find 

Sir  Gawain  or  Sir  Modred,4  saw  nor  one 
320  Nor  other,  but  in  all  the  listening  eyes 

Of  those  tall  knights,  that  ranged  about  the  throne, 

Clear  honor  shining  like  the  dewy  star 

Of  dawn,  and  faith  in  their  great  King,  with  pure 

Affection,  and  the  light  of  victory, 
325  And  glory  gain'd,  and  evermore  to  gain. 

Then  came  a  widow  crying  to  the  King, 
"  A  boon,6  Sir  King!     Thy  father,  TJther,  reft 

i  who  had  the  deeds  of  their  time  carved  3  judgment. 

^  8tone.  *  llis  brothers.    See  note  on  11.  25,  26,  and 

2  The  place  was  in  keeping  with  Gareth's  also  11.  408,  409. 

enthusiastic  ideals.  s  favor. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  47 

From  my  dead  lord  a  field  with  violence : 
For  howsoe'er  at  first  he  proffer 'd  gold, 
330  Yet,  for  the  field  was  pleasant  in  our  eyes, 
We  yielded  not;  and  then  he  reft  us  of  it 
Perforce,  and  left  us  neither  gold  nor  field." 

Said  Arthur,  "  Whether '  would  ye  ?  gold  or  field  ?  " 
To  whom  the  woman  weeping,  "  Nay,  my  lord, 
335  The  field  was  pleasant  in  my  husband's  eye." 

And  Arthur,  "  Have  thy  pleasant  field  again, 
And  thrice  the  gold  for  Uther's  use  thereof, 
According  to  the  years.     No  boon  is  here, 
But  justice,  so  thy  say  be  proven  true. 
340  Accursed,  who  from  wrongs  his.  father  did 
Would  shape  himself  a  right!  " 

And  while  she  past, 
Came  yet  another  widow  crying  to  him, 
"  A  boon,  Sir  King!     Thine  enemy,  King,  am  I. 
With  thine  own  hand  thou  slewest  my  dear  lord, 

345  A  knight  of  Uther  in  the  Barons'  war,2 

When  Lot  and  many  another  rose  and  fought 
Against  thee,  saying  thou  wert  basely  born. 
I  held  with  these,  and  loathe  to  ask  thee  aught. 
Yet  lo!  my  husband's  brother  had  my  son 

350  Thrall' d  in  his  castle,  and  hath  starved  him  dead; 
And  standeth  seized 3  of  that  inheritance 
Which  thou  that  slewest  the  sire  hast  left  the  son. 
So  tho'  I  scarce  can  ask  it  thee  for  hate, 
Grant  me  some  knight  to  do  the  battle  for  me, 

355  Kill  the  foul  thief,  and  wreak 4  me  for  my  son." 

1  which  of  the  two.  were    acknowledged.      See    lines   75,    76. 

2  the  Barons1    war    against   Arthur   be-         3  a  legal  term  for  possessed  of. 
fore  his  supremacy  and  title  to  the  throne         4  revenge. 


48  POEMS  OF  KNIGHTLY  ADVENTURE. 

Then  strode  a  good  knight  forward,  crying  to  him, 
"A  boon,  Sir  King!  I  am  her  kinsman,  I. 
Give  me  to  right  her  wrong,  and  slay  the  man." 

Then  came  Sir  Kay,  the  seneschal,1  and  cried, 
360  "  A  boon,  Sir  King!  ev'n  that  thou  grant  her  none, 
This  railer,  that  hath  mock'd  thee  in  full  hall — 
None;  or  the  wholesome  boon  of  gyve  and  gag." 

But  Arthur,  "  We  sit  King,  to  help  the  wrong'd 
Thro'  all  our  realm.     The  woman  loves  her  lord. 

3G5  Peace  to  thee,  woman,  with  thy  loves  and  hates! 
The  kings  of  old  had  doom'd  thee  to  the  flames, 
Aurelius  Emrys 2  would  have  scourged  thee  dead, 
And  Uther  slit  thy  tongue;  but  get  thee  hence — 
Lest  that  rough  humor  of  the  kings  of  old 

370  Return  upon  me!     Thou  that  art  her  kin, 

Go  likewise;  lay  him  low  and  slay  him  not,  k 

But  bring  him  here,  that  I  may  judge  the  right, 
According  to  the  justice  of  the  King: 
Then,  be  he  guilty,  by  that  deathless  King 

375  Who  lived  and  died  for  men,  the  man  shall  die.' 

Then  came  in  hall  the  messenger  of  Mark,' 
A  name  of  evil  savor  in  the  land, 
The  Cornish  king.     In  either  hand  he  bore 
What  dazzled  all,  and  shone  far-off  as  shines 
380  A  field  of  charlock*  in  the  sudden  sun 

Between  two  showers,  a  cloth  of  palest  gold, 
Which  down  he  laid  before  the  throne,  and  knelt. 
Delivering,6  that  his  Lord,  the  vassal  king, 

1  Sir  Kay  is  one  of  the  familiar  figures  3  Mark,  king  of  Cornwall,  a"  vassal  king" 

among  Arthur's    knights  in    the  old    ro-  or  dependent  lord  of  Arthur,  is  the  type  of 

mances.    He  was  the  seneschal  or  steward,  cowardly  meanness  elsewhere  in  the  poems 

the  keeper  of  the  king's  castle.  of  the  Idylls  of  the  King,  as  Modred  is  the 

3  Aurelius  Emrys  and  Uther  were  broth-  type  of  envious  cunning, 

ere.    The  latter  was  king  before  Arthur,  the  4  the  yellow  wild  mustard  plant. 

former  before  Uther.  t  giving  the  message. 


GARETH  AND   LYNETTE.  49 

Was  ev'n  upon  his  way  to  Camelot; 
385  For  having  heard  that  Arthur  of  his  grace 

Had  made  his  goodly  cousin,  Tristram,  knight,' 

And,  for  himself  was  of  the  greater  state, 

Being  a  king,  he  trusted  his  liege-lord 

"Would  yield  him  this  large  honor  all  the  more; 
390  So  pray'd  him  well  to  accept  this  cloth  of  gold, 

In  token  of  true  heart  and  fealty.2 

Then  Arthur  cried  to  rend  the  cloth,  to  rend 
In  pieces  and  so  cast  it  on  the  hearth. 
An  oak-tree 3  smouldered  there.      "  The  goodly  knight!  * 

395  What !  shall  the  shield  of  Mark  stand  among  these '? ' ' 
For  midway  down  the  side  of  that  long  hall 
A  stately  pile, — whereof  along  the  front 
Some  blazon'd,5  some  but  carven,  and  some  blank, 
There  ran  a  treble  range  of  stony  shields, — 

400  Eose  and  high-arching  overbrow'd  the  hearth. 
And  under  every  shield  a  knight  was  named; 
For  this  was  Arthur's  custom  in  his  hall; 
When  some  good  knight  had  done  one  noble  deed, 
His  arms  were  carven  only;  but  if  twain 

405  His  arms  were  blazon'd  also;  but  if  none 

The  shield  was  blank  and  bare  without  a  sign 
Saving  the  name  beneath ;  and  Gareth  saw 
The  shield  of  Gawain  blazon'd  rich  and  bright, 
And  Modred's  blank  as  death;  and  Arthur  cried 

410  To  rend  the  cloth  and  cast  it  on  the  hearth.6 

"  More  like  are  we  to  reave  7  him  of  his  crown 
Than  make  him  knight  because  men  call  him  king. 

1  The  king  had  power  to  raise  whom  he  6  This  is  the  word  in  the  science  of  her- 

would  to  the  order  of  knighthood.  aldry  for  portraying  in  the  right  colors. 

s  faithful  service.  *  These  words  take  up  the  story  after  the 

3  The  hearth  was  so  large  that  the  trunk  description. 

of  a  great  tree  could  be  put  in  it.  7  To  reave  is  to  take  away.     The  con- 

*  Arthur  speaks  in  scorn,  as  though  he  had  struction  is  the  same  as  after  "  deprive." 
said,  ''  A  fine  knight  he  would  be." 
4 


50  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

The  kings  we  found,  ye  know  we  stay'd  their  hands 
From  war  among  themselves,  but  left  them  kings; 

415  Of  whom  were  any  bounteous,  merciful. 

Truth-speaking,  brave,  good  livers,  them  we  enroll'd 
Among  us,  and  they  sifc  within  our  hall. 
But  Mark  hath  tarnish'd  the  great  name  of  king, 
As  Mark  would  sully  the  low  state  of  churl : 

420  And  seeing  he  hath  sent  us  cloth  of  gold, 

Return,  and  meet,  and  hold  him  from  our  eyes, 
Lest  we  should  lap  him  up  in  cloth  of  lead,1 
Silenced  forever — craven — a  man  of  plots, 
Craft,  poisonous  counsels,  wayside  ambush ings — 

425  No  fault  of  thine:  let  Kay,  the  seneschal, 
Look  to  thy  wants,  and  send  thee  satisfied — 
Accursed,  who  strikes  nor  lets  the  hand  be  seen!  " 

And  many  another  suppliant  crying  came 
With  noise  of  ravage  wrought  by  beast  and  man, 
430  And  evermore  a  knight  would  ride  away. 

Last  Gareth  leaning  both  hands  heavily 
Down  on'the  shoulders  of  the  twain,  his  men, 
Approach'd  between  them  toward  the  King,  and  ask'd, 
"  A  boon,  Sir  King  (his  voice  was  all  ashamed), 
435  For  see  ye  not  how  weak  and  hunger-worn 
I  seem — leaning  on  these?  grant  me  to  serve 
For  meat  and  drink  among  the  kitchen-knaves 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day,  nor  seek  my  name. 
Hereafter  I  will  fi^ht.'" 


'to* 


To  him  the  King, 
440  "A  goodly  youth  and  worth  a  goodlier  boon! 
But  an  thou  wilt  no  goodlier,  then  must  Kay, 
The  master  of  the  meats  and  drinks  be  thine."  ' 

1  Lead  was  used  for  coffins  ;  lap  is  the         3  rather  a  condensed  construction.    Kay 
game  word  as  wrap.  is  to  be  master  of  Gareth  as  well  as  of  the 

1  He  cannot  help  expressing  his  real  hopes,      meats  and  drinks. 


GARETH  AND   LYNETTE.  51 

He  rose  and  past;  then  Kay,  a  man  of  mien 
Wan-sallow  as  the  plant  that  feels  itself 
445  Root-bitten  by  white  lichen, 

"  Lo  ye  now! 
This  fellow  hath  broken  from  some  Abbey,  where, 
God  wot,  he  had  not  beef  and  brewis  enow, 
However  that  might  chance !  but  an  he  work, 
Like  any  pigeon  will  I  cram  his  crop, 
450  And  sleeker  shall  he  shine  than  any  hog." 

Then  Lancelot1  standing  near,  "  Sir  Seneschal, 
Sleuth-hound  thou  knowest,  and  gray,  and  all  the  hounds; 
A  horse  thou  knowest,  a  man  thou  dost  not  know: 
Broad  brows  and  fair,  a  fluent 2  hair  and  fine, 
455  High  nose,  a  nostril  large  and  fine,  and  hands 

Large,  fair  and  fine ! — Some  young  lad's  mystery — 
But,  or  from  sheepcot  or  king's  hall,  the  boy 
Is  noble-natured.     Treat  him  with  all  grace, 
Lest  he  should  come  to  shame  thy  judging  of  him." 

460       Then  Kay,  "What  murmurest  thou  of  mystery? 
Think  ye  this  fellow  will  poison  the  King's  dish  ? 
Nay,  for  he  spake  too  fool-like:  mystery! 
Tut,  an  the  lad  were  noble,  he  had  ask'd 
For  horse  and  armor :  fair  and  fine,  forsooth ! 

465  Sir  Fine-face,  Sir  Fair-hands  ?  but  see  thou  to  it 
That  thine  own  fineness,  Lancelot,  some  fine  day 
Undo  thee  not — and  leave  my  man  to  me." 


So  Gareth  all  for  glory  underwent 
The  sooty  yoke  of  kitchen- vassalage; 


"Lancelot    is    the    chief    of   Arthur's  "flowing.    We  say"  a  fluent  speech,"  but 

knights,  the  most  courteous,  the  bravest,  do  not  often  use  the  word  for  material 

and    the   greatest   in  everything  that  be-  things, 

longed  to  knighthood.  3  See  1.  157. 


52  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

470  Ate  with  young  lads  his  portion  by  the  door, 

And  couch'd  at  night  with  grimy  kitchen-knaves. 
And  Lancelot  ever  spake  him  pleasantly, 
But  Kay  the  seneschal  who  loved  him  not 
Would  hustle  and  harry  him,  and  labor  him 

475  Beyond  his  comrade  of  the  hearth,  and  set 

To  turn  the  broach,1  draw  water,  or  hew  wood, 
Or  grosser  tasks;  and  Gareth  bow'd  himself 
With  all  obedience  to  the  King,  and  wrought 
All  kind  of  service  with  a  noble  ease 

480  That  graced  the  lowliest  act  in  doing  it. 

And  when  the  thralls  had  talk  among  themselves 
And  one  Avould  praise  the  love  that  linkt  the  King 
And  Lancelot — how  the  King  had  saved  his  life 
In  battle  twice,  and  Lancelot  once  the  King's — 

485  For  Lancelot  was  the  first  in  Tournament, 
But  Arthur  mightiest  on  the  battlefield — 
Gareth  was  glad.     Or  if  some  other  told, 
How  once  the  wandering  forester  at  dawn, 
Far  over  the  blue  tarns  and  hazy  seas, 

490  On  Caer-EryriV  highest  found  the  King 
A  naked  babe,  of  whom  the  Prophet  spake, 
"  He  passes  to  the  Isle  Avilion,3 
He  passes  and  is  heal'd  and  cannot  die  " — 
Gareth  was  glad.     But  if  their  talk  were  foul, 

495  Then  would  he  whistle  rapid  as  any  lark, 
Or  carol  some  old  roundelay,  and  so  loud 
That  first  they  mock'd,  but,  after,  reverenced  him. 
Or  Gareth  telling  6ome  prodigious  tale 
Of  knights,  who  sliced  a  red  life-bubbling4  way 

500  Thro'  twenty  folds  of  twisted  dragon,  held 
All  in  a  gap-mouth'd  circle  his  good  mates 
Lying  or  sitting  round  him,  idle  hands, 

1  the  great  Bpit.  '  a  mythical  island,  a  sort  of  paradise  on 

»  apparenUy  Mt.  Suowdon.  earth.     *  because  the  life-blood  gushed  out 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  53 

Cliarm'd;  till  Sir  Kay,  the  seneschal,  would  come 

Blustering  upon  them,  like  a  sudden  wind 
505  Among  dead  leaves,  and  drive  them  all  apart. 

Or  when  the  thralls  had  sport  among  themselves, 

So  there  were  any  trial  of  mastery, 

He,  by  two  yards  in  casting  bar  or  stone 

"Was  counted  best;  and  if  there  chanced  a  joust, 
510  So  that  Sir  Kay  nodded  him  leave  to  go, 

Would  hurry  thither,  and  when  he  saw  the  knights 

Clash  like  the  coming  and  retiring  wave, 

And  the  spear  spring,  and  good  horse  reel,  the  boy 

Was  half  beyond  himself  for  ecstasy. 

515       So  for  a  month  he  wrought  among  the  thralls; 
But  in  the  weeks  that  follow'd,  the  good  Queen, 
Bepentant  of  the  word  she  made  him  swear, 
And  saddening  in  her  childless  castle,  sent, 
Between  the  increscent  and  decrescent  moon,* 

520  Arms  for  her  son,  and  loosed  him  from  his  vow. 

This,  Gareth  hearing  from  a  squire  of  Lot 
With  whom  he  used  to  play  at  tourney  once, 
When  both  were  children,  and  in  lonely  haunts 
Would  scratch  a  ragged  oval  on  the  sand,2 

525  And  each  at  either  dash  from  either  end — 

Shame  never  made  girl  redder  than  Gareth  joy. 

He  laugh'd;  he  sprang.     "  Out  of  the  smoke,  at  once 

I  leap  from  Satan's  foot  to  Peter's  knee 3 — 

These  news  be  mine,  none  other's — nay,  the  King's — 

530  Descend  into  the  city:  "  whereon  he  sought 
The  Kiug  alone,  and  found,  and  told  him  all. 

"  I  have  stagger' d  thy  strong  Gawain  in  a  tilt 
For  pastime;  yea  he  said  it:  joust  can  I. 

1  increasing  and  decreasing.    Increscent,     closures  in  which    the  tournaments  were 
like  fluent,  is  nearer  the  Latin  form.  held.  3  From  Hell  to  Heaven,  of  which 

*  in  imitation  of  the   oval  lists  or  en-     Peter  holds  the  keys. 


5-1  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Make  me  thy  knight — in  secret!  let  my  name 
535  Be  hidd'n,  and  give  me  the  first  quest,  I  spring 
Like  flame  from  ashes." 

Here  the  King's  calm  eye 
Fell  on,  and  check'd,  and  made  him  flush,  and  bow 
Lowly,  to  kiss  his  hand,  who  answer'd  him, 
"  Son,  the  good  mother  let  me  know  thee  here, 
540  And  sent  her  wish  that  I  would  yield  thee  thine. : 

Make  thee  my  knight  ?  my  knights  are  sworn  to  vows 
Of  utter  hardihood,  utter  gentleness, 
And,  loving,  utter  faithfulness  in  love, 
And  uttermost  obedience  to  the  King." 

545       Then  Gareth,  lightly  springing  from  his  knees, 
"  My  King,  for  hardihood  I  can  promise  thee. 
For  uttermost  obedience  make  demand 
Of  whom  ye  gave  me  to,  the  Seneschal, 
No  mellow  master  of  the  meats  and  drinks! 

550  And  as  for  love,  God  wot,  I  love  not  yet, 
But  love  I  shall,  God  willing." 

And  the  King — 
"  Make  thee  my  knight  in  secret?  yea,  but  he, 
Our  noblest  brother,  and  our  truest  man, 
And  one  with  me  in  all,  he  needs  must  know." 

555       "  Let  Lancelot  know,  my  King,  let  Lancelot  know, 
Thy  noblest  and  thy  truest!  " 


And  the  King — 
"  But  wherefore  would  ye  men  should  wonder  at  you  ? 
Nay,  rather  for  the  sake  of  me,  their  King, 
And  the  deed's  sake  my  knighthood  do  the  deed, 
560  Than  to  be  noised  of." 

1  give  you  the  honor  which  is  rightly  yours. 


GARETH  AND   LYNETTE.  55 

Merrily  Gareth  ask'd, 

*(  Have  I  not  earned  my  cake  in  baking  of  it  ? 

Let  be  my  name  until  I  make  my  name! ' 

My  deeds  will  speak:  it  is  but  for  a  day." 

So  with  a  kindly  hand  on  Gareth's  arm 
565  Smiled  the  great  King,  and  half  unwillingly 

Loving  his  lusty  youthhood  yielded  to  him. 

Then,  after  summoning  Lancelot  privily, 

"  I  have  given  him  the  first  quest:  he  is  not  proven. 

Look  therefore  when  he  calls  for  this  in  hall, 
570  Thou  get  to  horse  and  follow  him  far  away. 

Cover  the  lions  on  thy  shield,2  and  see 

Far  as  thou  mayest,  he  be  nor  ta'en  nor  slain. " 


/ 


Then  that  same  day  there  past  into  the'  hall 
A  damsel  of  high  lineage,  and  a  brow 
575  May-blossom,  and  a  cheek  of  apple-blossom, 
Hawk-eyes;  and  lightly  was  her  slender  nose 
Tip-tilted  like  the  petal  of  a  flower; 
She  into  hall  past  with  her  page  and  cried, 

"  0  King,  for  thou  hast  driven  the  foe  without, 
580  See  to  the  foe  within !  bridge,  ford,  beset 

By  bandits,  every  one  that  owns  a  tower 

The  Lord  for  half  a  league.3     Why  sit  ye  there? 

Eest  would  I  not,  Sir  King,  an  I  were  king, 

Till  ev'n  the  lonest  hold 4  were  all  as  free 
585  From  cursed  bloodshed,  as  thine  altar-cloth 

From  that  blest  blood  it  is  a  sin  to  spill. " 

"  Comfort  thyself,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  nor  mine 
Rest:  so  my  knighthood  keep  the  vows  they  swore, 
The  wastest  moorland  of  our  realm  shall  be 

*  Never  mind  my  name  till  I  can  make  one.         3  That  is,    master  of  the  territory  just 
8  Lancelot  even  in  his  armor  was  known     around  about  his  castle, 
by  the  device  on  his  shield.    See  1. 1273.  *  castle. 


56  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

590  Safe,  damsel,  as  the  centre  of  this  hall. 
What  is  thy  name  ?  thy  need  ?  " 

"  My  name  ?  "  she  said — 
"  Lynette  my  name;  noble;  my  need,  a  knight 
To  combat  for  my  sister,  Lyonors, 
A  lady  of  high  lineage,  of  great  lands, 

595  And  comely,  yea,  and  comelier  than  myself. 
She  lives  in  Castle  Perilous:  a  river 
Buns  in  three  loops  about  her  living-place; 
And  o'er  it  are  three  passings,  and  three  knights 
Defend  the  passings,  brethren,  and  a  fourth, 

600  And  of  that  four  the  mightiest,  holds  her  stay'd 
In  her  own  castle  and  so  besieges  her 
To  break  her  will,  and  make  her  wed  with  him: 
And  but '  delays  his  purport  till  thou  send 
To  do  the  battle  with  him,  thy  chief  man 

605  Sir  Lancelot  whom  he  trusts  to  overthrow, 
Then  wed,  with  glory;  but  she  will  not  wed 
Save  whom  she  loveth,  or  a  holy  life.2 
Xow  therefore  have  I  come  for  Lancelot." 

Then  Arthur  mindful  of  Sir  Gareth  ask'd, 
610  "  Damsel,  ye  know  this  Order3  lives  to  crush 

All  wrongers  of  the  Realm.     But  say,  these  four, 
Who  be  they  ?     What  the  fashion  of  the  men  ?  " 

"  They  be  of  foolish  fashion,  O  Sir  King, 
The  fashion  of  that  old4  knight-errantry 
615  Who  ride  abroad  and  do  but  what  they  will; 
Courteous  or  bestial  from  the  moment, 
Such  as  have  nor  law  nor  king:  and  three  of  these 
Proud  in  their  fantasy  call  themselves,  the  Day, 

i  only.  s  (lie  order  of  Arthur's  knights. 

»  To  "  wed  a  holy  life  "  was  to  become  a         «  heforr    the    time    of    Arthur,    whose 
nun.  knights  had  higher  aims. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  57 

Morning-Star,  and  Noon-Sun,  and  Evening-Star, 
620  Being  strong  fools;  and  never  a  whit  more  wise 

The  fourth  who  always  rideth  arm'd  in  black, 

A  huge  man-beast  of  boundless  savagery. 

He  names  himself  the  Night  and  oftener  Death, 

And  wears  a  helmet  mounted  with  a  skull 
625  And  bears  a  skeleton  figured  on  his  arms, 

To  show  that  who  may  slay  or  scape  the  three 

Slain  by  himself  shall  enter  endless  night. 

And  all  these  four  be  fools,  but  mighty  men, 

And  therefore  am  I  come  for  Lancelot."  l 

630       Hereat  Sir  Gareth  call'd  from  where  he  rose, 
A  head  with  kindling  eyes  above  the  throng, 
"  A  boon,  Sir  King — this  quest!  "  then — for  he  mark'd 
Kay  near  him  groaning  like  a  wounded  bull — 
'"Yea,  King,  thou  knowest  thy  kitchen-knave  am  I," 

635  And  mighty  thro'  thy  meats  and  drinks  am  I, 
And  I  can  topple  over  a  hundred  such. 
Thy  promise,  King,"  and  Arthur  glancing  at  him, 
Brought  down  a  momentary  brow.     "  Eough,  sudden, 
And  pardonable,  worthy  to  be  knight — 

640  Go  therefore,"  and  all  hearers  Ave  re  amazed. 

But  on  the  damsel's  forehead  shame,  pride,  wrath, 
Slew  the  May- white;  she  lifted  either  arm, 
"  Fie  on  thee,  King!     I  ask'd  for  thy  chief  knight, 
And  thou  hast  given  me  but  a  kitchen-knave." 
645  Then  ere  a  man  in  hall  could  stay  her,  turn'd, 
Fled  doAvn  the  lane  of  access  to  the  King, 
Took  horse,  descended  the  slope  street,3  and  past 
The  Aveird  Avhite  gate,  and  paused  without,  beside 
The  field  of  tourney,  murmuring  "kitchen-knave." 

>  Lynette  is  impetuous  (11.  579-582)  and     size  that  which  he  knows  will  disgust  him 
persistent.  most.  3  Camelot  was  a  "  high  city," 

8  The  sight  of  Kay  makes  Gareth  erupha-     and  the  palace  was  on  the  summit. 


58  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

650       Now  two  great  entries  open'd  from  the  hall, 
At  one  end  one,  that  gave  upon  a  range 
Of  level  pavement  where  the  King  could  pace 
At  sunrise,  gazing  over  plain  and  wood ; 
And  down  from  this  a  lordly  stairway  sloped 

655  Till  lost  in  blowing  trees  and  tops  of  towers.1 
And  out  by  this  main  doorway  past  the  King. 
But  one  was  counter  to 2  the  hearth,  and  rose 
High  that  the  highest-crested  helm  could  ride 
Therethro'  nor  graze :  and  by  this  entry  fled 

660  The  damsel  in  her  wrath,  and  on  to  this 

Sir  Gareth  strode,  and  saw  without  the  door 
King  Arthur's  gift,  the  worth  of  half  a  town, 
A  war-horse  of  the  best,  and  near  it  stood 
The  two  that  out  of  north  had  follow'd  him. 

665  This3  bare  a  maiden  shield,  a  casque;  *  that  held 
The  horse,  the  spear;  whereat  Sir  Gareth  loosed 
A  cloak  that  dropped  from  collar-bone  to  heel, 
A  cloth  of  roughest  web,  and  cast  it  down, 
And  from  it  like  a  f uel-smother'd  fire, 

670  That  lookt  half-dead,  brake  bright,  and  flash'd  as  those 
Dull-coated  things,  that  making  slide  apart 
Their  dusk  wing-cases,  all  beneath  there  burns 
A  jewel'd  harness,  ere  they  pass  and  fly. 
So  Gareth  ere  he  parted  flash'd  in  arms. 

675  Then  while  he  donn'd  b  the  helm,  and  took  the  shield 
And  mounted  horse  and  graspt  a  spear,  of  grain 
Storm-strengthened  on  a  windy  site,  and  tipt 
With  trenchant 8  steel,  around  him  slowly  prest 
The  people,  and  from  out  of  kitchen  came 

680  The  thralls  in  throng,  and  seeing  who  had  work'd 
Lustier  than  any,  and  whom  they  could  but  love, 

>  The  hill  was  bo  steep  that  from  above,  3  tliix,  one  of  the  two  ;  that,  the  other, 

the  road  seemed  to  ruu  among  tue  toP8  of  *  helmet 

houses.  6  Pol  "ii. 

4  opposite.  *  good  for  cutting. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  59 

Mounted  in  arms,  threw  up  their  caps  and  cried, 
i(  God  bless  the  King,  and  all  his  fellowship!  " 
And  on  thro'  lanes  of  shouting  Gareth  rode 
685  Down  the  slope  street,  and  past  without  the  gate. 

So  Gareth  past  with  joy;  but  as  the  cur 
Pluckt  from  the  cur  he  fights  with,  ere  his  cause 
Be  cool'd  by  fighting,  follows,  being  named, 
His  owner,  but  remembers  all,  and  growls 
690  Remembering,  so  Sir  Kay  beside  the  door 
Mutter'd  in  scorn  of  Gareth  whom  he  used 
To  harry  and  hustle. 

"  Bound  upon  a  quest 
"With  horse  and  arms — the  King  hath  past  his  time  '— 
My  scullion  knave!     Thralls  to  your  work  again. 

695  For  an  your  fire  be  low  ye  kindle  mine! 2 

Will  there  be  dawn  in  West  and  eve  in  East  ? ' 
Begone! — my  knave! — belike  and  like  enow 
Some  old  head-blow4  not  heeded  in  his  youth 
So  shook  his  wits  they  wander  in  his  prime — 

700  Crazed !     How  the  villain  lifted  up  his  voice. 
Nor  shamed  to  bawl  himself  a  kitchen-knave. 
Tut:  he  was  tame  and  meek  enow  with  me, 
Till  peacock'd  up  with  Lancelot's  noticing. 
Well — I  will  after  my  loud  knave,  and  learn 

T05  Whether  he  know  me  for  his  master  yet. 
Out  of  the  smoke  he  came,  and  so  my  lance 
Hold,  by  God's  grace,  he  shall  into  the  mire — 
Thence,  if  the  King  awaken  from  his  craze, 
Into  the  smoke  again." 

But  Lancelot  said, 
710  "  Kay,  wherefore  will  ye  go  against  the  King, 

1  He  ie  in  his  dotage.  4  If  not  in  his  dotage,  something  is  wrong 

2  My  fire  is  metaphorical.  with  his  mind  :  it  may  be  that  some  old 

3  Is  the  order  of  everything  to  be  reversed?     wound  has  unsettled  him. 


60  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

For  that  did  never  he '  whereon  ye  rail, 
But  ever  meekly  served  the  King  in  thee? 
Abide :  take  counsel ;  for  this  lad  is  great 
And  lusty,  and  knowing  both  of  lance  and  sword." 
715  "  Tut,  tell  not  me,"  said  Kay,  "ye  are  over-fine 
To  mar  stout  knaves  with  foolish  courtesies." 
Then  mounted,  on  thro'  silent  faces2  rode 
Down  the  slope  city,  and  out  beyond  the  gate. 

But  by  the  field  of  tourney  lingering  yet 
720  Muttered  the  damsel,  "  Wherefore  did  the  King 
Scorn  me  ?  for,  were  Sir  Lancelot  lackt,  at  least 
He  might  have  yielded  to  me  one  of  those 
"Who  tilt  for  lady's  love  and  glory  here, 
Rather  than— 0  sweet  heaven!     0  fie  upon  him — 
725  His  kitchen-knave." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  drew 
(And  there  were  none  but  few  goodlier  than  he) 
Shining  in  arms,  "  Damsel,  the  quest  is  mine. 
Lead,  and  I  follow."     She  thereat,  as  one 
That  smells  a  foul-flesh'd  agaric 3  in  the  holt/ 

730  And  deems  it  carrion  of  some  woodland  thing, 
Or  shrew,  or  weasel,  nipt  her  slender  nose 
With  petulant  thumb  and  finger,  shrilling,6  "Hence! 
Avoid,  thou  smellest  all  of  kitchen-grease. 
And  look  who  comes  behind,"  for  there  was  Kay. 

735  "  Knowest  thou  not  me  ?  thy  master  ?     I  am  Kay. 
"We  lack  thee  by  the  hearth." 

And  Gareth  to  him, 
'  •  Master  no  more !  too  well  I  know  thee,  ay — 
The  most  ungentle  knight  in  Arthur's  hall." 

»  Gareth.  s  a  mushroom. 

*  The  people  had  no  love  for  him  aa  they         4  the  wood, 
bad  for  Gareth  (1.  684).  6  crying  in  a  shrill  voice. 


GARETH   JlND   LYNETTE.  61 

"Have  at  thee  then,"  said  Kay;  they  shock'd,  and  Kay 
740  Fell  shoulder-slipt,1  and  Gareth  cried  again, 

"  Lead,  and  I  follow,"  and  fast  away  she  fled.  \ 

But  after  sod  and  shingle 2  ceased  to  fly 

Behind  her,  and  the  heart  of  her  good  horse 

Was  nigh  to  burst  with  violence  of  the  beat, 
745  Perforce  she  stay'd,  and  overtaken  spoke. 

"  What  doest  thou,  scullion,  in  my  fellowship? 

Deem'st  thou  that  I  accept  thee  aught  the  more, 

Or  love  thee  better,  that  by  some  device 

Full  cowardly,  or  by  mere  unhappiness, 
750  Thou  hast  overthrown  and  slain  thy  master — thou! — 

Dish-washer  and  broach -turner,  loon! — to  me 

Thou  smellest  all  of  kitchen  as  before." 

"  Damsel,"  Sir  Gareth  answer'd  gently,  "  say 
Whate'er  ye  will,  but  whatsoe'er  ye  say, 
755  I  leave  not  till  I  finish  this  fair  quest, 
Or  die  therefor." 

"  Ay,  wilt  thou  finish  it  ? 
Sweet  lord,  how  like  a  noble  knight  he  talks! 
The  listening  rogue  hath  caught  the  manner  of  it. 
But,  knave,  anon  thou  shaltbe  met  with,3  knave, 
760  And  then  by  such  a  one  that  thou  for  all 
The  kitchen  brewis 4  that  was  ever  supt 
,    Shalt  not  once  dare  to  look  him  in  the  face." 

"  I  shall  assay,"  5  said  Gareth  with  a  smile 
That  madden'd  her,  and  away  she  flash'd  again 
765  Down  the  long  avenues  of  boundless  wood, 
And  Gareth  following  was  again  beknaved.6 

1  His  shoulder  dislocated.  *  Thickened  soup  or  broth. 

3  coarse  gravel.  6  attempt. 

8  As  we  say  "  come  up  with."  8  called  a  knave. 


62  POEMS    OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

"  Sir  Kitchen-knave,  I  have  miss'd  the  only  way 
Where  Arthur's  men  are  set  along  the  wood ; 
The  wood  is  nigh  as  full  of  thieves  as  leaves: 
770  If  both  be  slain,  I  am  rid  of  thee;  but  yet, 

Sir  Scullion,  canst  thou  use  that  spit1  of  thine? 
Fight,  an  thou  canst:  I  have  miss'd  the  only  May." 

So  till  the  dusk  that  followed  even-song 
Rode  on  the  two,  reviler  and  reviled : 

775  Then  after  one  loug  slope  was  mounted,  saw, 

Bowl-shaped,  thro'  tops  of  many  thousand  pines, 
A  gloomy-gladecl  hollow  slowly  sink 
To  westward — in  the  deeps  whereof  a  mere,* 
Round  as  the  red  eye  of  an  Eagle-owl, 

780  Under  the  half -dead  sunset  glared ;  and  cries 
Ascended,  and  there  brake  a  serving-man 
Flying  from  out  of  the  black  wood,  and  crying, 
"  They  have  bound  my  lord  to  cast  him  in  the  mere.'* 
Then  Gareth,  "  Bound  am  I  to  right  the  wrong'd, 

785  But  straitlier  bound  am  I  to  bide  with  thee." 
And  when  the  damsel  spake  contemptuously, 
"  Lead  and  I  follow,"  Gareth  cried  again, 
"  Follow,  I  lead!  "  so  down  among  the  pines 
He  plunged,  and  there,  black-shadow'd  nigh  the  mere, 

7i>0  And  mid-thigh-deep,  in  bulrushes  and  reed, 
Saw  six  tall  men  haling3  a  seventh  along, 
A  stone  about  his  neck,  to  drown  him  in  it. 
Three  with  good  blows  he  quieted,  but  three 
Fled  thro'  the  pines;  and  Gareth  loosed  the  stone 

795  From  off  his  neck,  then  in  the  mere  beside 
Tumbled  it;  oilily  bubbled  up  the  mere. 
Last,  Gareth  loosed  his  bonds  and  on  free  feet 
Set  him  a  stalwart  Baron,  Arthur's  friend. 

1  She  calls  his  lance  a  spit  because  he  had        ■  a  little  pond, 
been  in  the  kitchen.  '  an  older  form  of  hauling. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  63 

"  Well  that  ye  came,  or  else  these  caitiff '  rogues 
800  Had  wreak'd  themselves  on  me;  good  cause  is  theirs 
To  hate  me,  for  my  wont  hath  ever  been 
To  catch  my  thief,  and  then  like  vermin  here 
Drown  him,  and  with  a  stone  about  his  neck; 
And  under  this  wan  water  many  of  them 
805  Lie  rotting,  but  at  night  let  go  the  stone, 
And  rise,  and  flickering  in  a  grimly  light 
Dance  on  the  mere.     Good  now,  ye  have  saved  a  life 
Worth  somewhat  as  the  cleanser  of  this  wood. 
And  fain  would  I  reward  thee  worshipfully. 
810  What  guerdon  will  ye  ?  " 

Gareth  sharply  spake, 
"  None!  for  the  deed's  sake  have  I  done  the  deed, 
In  uttermost  obedience  to  the  King. 
But  will  ye  yield  this  damsel  harborage  ?  " 

Whereat  the  Baron  saying,  "  I  well  believe 

815  Ye  be  of  Arthur's  Table,"   a  light  laugh 
Broke  from  Lynette,  "  Ay,  truly  of  a  truth, 
And  in  a  sort,  being  Arthur's  kitchen-knave! — 
But  deem  not  I  accept  thee  aught  the  more, 
Scullion,  for  running  sharply  with  thy  spit 

820  Down  on  a  rout 2  of  craven  foresters. 

A  thresher  with  his  flail  had  scatter'd  them. 
Nay—  for  thou  smellest  of  the  kitchen  still. 
But  an  this  lord  will  yield  us  harborage, 
WelL" 

So  she  spake.     A  league  beyond  the  wood, 
825  All  in  a  full-fair  manor  and  a  rich, 

His  towers  where  that  day  a  feast  had  been 
Held  in  high  hall,  and  many  a  viand  left, 

1  villainous.  2  used  contemptuously,  as  we  might  say  a  mob. 


5 

9 


64  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

And  many  a  costly  cate,1  received  the  three. 
And  there  they  placed  a  peacock  in  his  pride  * 
830  Before  the  damsel,  and  the  Baron  set 
,/^Gareth  beside  her,  but  at  once  she  rose. 

"  Meseems3  that  here  is  much  discourtesy, 
Setting  this  knave,  Lord  Baron,  at  my  side. 
Hear  me — this  morn  I  stood  in  Arthur's  hall, 

835  And  pray'd  the  King  would  grant  me  Lancelot 
To  fight  the  brotherhood  of  Day  and  Night— 
The  last  a  monster  unsubduable 
Of  any  save  of  him  for  whom  I  call'd — 
Suddenly  bawls  this  f rontless  *  kitchen-knave, 

840  '  The  quest  is  mine;  thy  kitchen-knave  am  I 
And  mighty  thro'  thy  meats  and  drinks  am  I. 
Then  Arthur  all  at  once  gone  mad  replies, 
'  Go  therefore,'  and  so  gives  the  quest  to  him— 
Him — here — a  villain  6  fitter  to  stick  swine 

845  Than  ride  abroad  redressing  women's  wrong, 
Or  sit  beside  a  noble  gentlewoman." 

Then  half-ashamed  and  part  amazed,  the  lord 
Now  look'd  at  one  and  now  at  other,  left 
The  damsel  by  the  peacock  in  his  pride, 
850  And,  seating  Gareth  at  another  board,8 
Sat  down  beside  him,  ate  and  then  began. 

"  Friend,  whether  ye  be  kitchen-knave,  or  not, 
Or  whether  it  be  the  maiden's  fantasy, 
And  whether  she  be  mad,  or  else  the  King, 
855  Or  both  or  neither,  or  thyself  be  mad, 

I  ask  not;  but  thou  strikest  a  strong  stroke, 

i  an  article  of  food.  3  It  seems  to  me. 

»  A  peacock  with    his  tail  spread    was  *  shameless, 

called  in  the  books  of  heraldry  "  a  peacock  »  See  note  on  1.  157,  where  the  word  is> 

in  his  pride"  used  as  an  adjective.                'aside-table. 


GARETH   AND    LYNETTE.  65 

For  strong  thou  art  and  goodly  therewithal, 
And  saver  of  my  life ;  and  therefore  now, 
For  here  be  mighty  men  to  joust  with,  weigh 
860  Whether  thou  wilt  not  with  thy  damsel  back 
To  crave  again  Sir  Lancelot  of  the  King.1 
Thy  pardon ;  I  but  speak  for  thine  avail, 
The  saver  of  my  life." 

And  Gareth  said, 
"  Full  pardon,  but  I  follow  up  the  quest, 
865  Despite  of  Day  and  Night  and  Death  and  Hell."  l 

So  when,  next  morn,  the  lord  whose  life  he  saved 
Had,  some  brief  space,  convey'd  them  on  their  way 
And  left  them  with  God-speed,  Sir  Gareth  spake, 
"  Lead,  and  I  follow."     Haughtily  she  replied, 

870       "  I  fly  no  more:  I  allow  thee  for  an  hour. 
Lion  and  stoat  have  isled 3  together,  knave, 
In  time  of  flood.     Nay,  furthermore,  methinks 
Some  ruth 4  is  mine  for  thee.     Back  wilt  thou,  fool  ? 
For  hard  by  here  is  one  who  will  overthrow 

875  And  slay  thee:  then  will  I  to  court  again, 
And  shame  the  King  for  only  yielding  me 
My  champion  from  the  ashes  of  his  hearth." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  answer'd  courteously, 
"  Say  thou  thy  say,  and  I  will  do  my  deed. 
880  Allow  me  for  mine  hour,  and  thou  wilt  find 
My  fortunes  all  as  fair  as  hers,  who  lay 
Among  the  ashes  and  wedded  the  King's  son."  5 

Then  to  the  shore  of  one  of  those  long  loops 
Wherethro'  the  serpent  river  coil'd,  they  came. 

**  To  ask  the  king  to  send  Lancelot.  3  have  climbed  for  safety  on  an  islet. 

a  Gareth  goes  a  step  farther  than  the  alle-  4  pity, 

gory,  meaning  that  nothing  shall  daunt  him.  6  Cinderella. 
5 


66  POEMS    OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

885  Rough  thicketed  were  the  hanks  and  steep;  the  stream 
Full,  narrow;  this  a  bridge  of  single  arc 
Took  at  a  leap;  and  on  the  further  side 
Arose  a  silk  pavilion,  gay  with  gold 
In  streaks  and  rays,  and  all  Lent-lily '  in  hue 

890  Save  that  the  dome  was  purple,  and  above, 
Crimson,  a  slender  banneret  fluttering. 
And  therebefore  the  lawless  warrior  paced 
TJnarm'd,  and  calling,  "  Damsel,  is  this  he, 
The  champion  ye  have  brought  from  Arthur's  hall  ? 

895  For  whom  we  let  thee  pass."     "  Nay,  nay,"  she  said, 
"  Sir  Morning-Star.     The  King  in  utter  scorn 
Of  thee  and  thy  much  folly  hath  sent  thee  here 
His  kitchen-knave:  and  look  thou  to  thyself: 
See  that  he  fall  not  on  thee  suddenly, 

900  And  slay  thee  unarm'd:  he  is  not  knight  but  knave." 

Then  at  his  call,  "  0  daughters  of  the  Dawn, 
And  servants  of  the  Morning-Star,  approach, 
Arm  me,"  from  out  the  silken  curtain-folds 
Barefooted  and  bareheaded  three  fair  girls 

905  In  gilt  and  rosy  raiment  came:  their  feet 
In  dewy  grasses  glisten'd;  and  the  hair 
All  over  glanced  with  dewdrop  or  with  gem 
Like  sparkles  in  the  stone  Avanturine.3 
These  arm'd  him  in  blue  arms,  and  gave  a  shield 

910  Blue  also,  and  thereon  the  morning  star. 
And  Gareth  silent  gazed  upon  the  knight, 
Who  stood  a  moment,  ere  his  horse  was  brought, 
Glorying;  and  in  the  stream  beneath  him,  shone, 
Immingled  with  Heaven's  azure  waveringly, 

915  The  gay  pavilion  and  the  naked  feet, 

I  lis  arms,  the  rosy  raiment,  and  the  star. 

1  The  "  Lcnt-lily  "  is  the  yellow  daffodil.  2  a  kind  of  quartz,  containing  mica 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  67 

Then  she  that  watch 'd  him,1  "  "Wherefore  stare  ye  so  ? 
Thou  shakest  in  thy  fear:  there  yet  is  time: 
Flee  down  the  valley  before  he  get  to  horse. 
920  AVho  will  cry  shame  ?     Thou  art  not  knight  but  knave. " 

Said  Gareth,  "  Damsel,  whether  knave  or  knight, 
Far  liefer  had  I  fight  a  score  of  times 
Than  hear  thee  so  missay  2  me  and  revile. 
Fair  words  were  best  for  him  who  fights  for  thee; 
925  But  truly  foul  are  better,  for  they  send 

That  strength  of  anger  thro'  mine  arms,  I  know 
That  I  shall  overthrow  him." 

And  he  that  bore 
The  star,  being  mounted,  cried  from  o'er  the  bridge, 
"A  kitchen-knave,  and  sent  in  scorn  of  me! 

930  Such  fight  not  I,  but  answer  scorn  with  scorn. 
For  this  were  shame  to  do  him  further  wrong 
Than  set  him  on  his  feet,  and  take  his  horse 
And  arms,  and  so  return  him  to  the  King. 
Come,  therefore,  leave  thy  lady  lightly,  knave. 

935  Avoid :  for  it  beseemeth  not  a  knave 
To  ride  with  such  a  lady." 

"  Dog,  thou  liest. 
I  spring  froin  loftier  lineage  than  thine  own." 
He  spake;  and  all  at  fiery  speed  the  two 
Shock 'd  on  the  central  bridge,  and  either  spear 

940  Bent  but  not  brake,  and  either  knight  at  once, 
Hurl'd  as  a  stone  from  out  of  a  catapult 
Beyond  his  horse's  crupper  and  the  bridge. 
Fell,  as  if  dead;  but  quickly  rose  and  drew, 
And  Gareth  lash'd  so  fiercely  with  his  brand 

945  He  drave  his  enemy  backward  down  the  bridge, 

1  Lynette.  2  speak  wrongly  of  me. 


68  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

The  damsel  crying,  "  Well-stricken,  kitchen-knave!  " 
Till  Gareth's  shield  was  cloven;  but  one  stroke 
Laid  him  that  clove  it  grovelling  on  the  ground.1 

&£ 

Then  cried  the  fall'n,  "  Take  not  my  life:  I  yield." 
950  And  Gareth,  "  So  this  damsel  ask  it  of  me 

Good — I  accord  it  easily  as  a  grace." 

She  reddening,  "  Insolent  scullion:  I  of  thee? 

I  bound  to  thee  for  any  favor  ask'd!  " 

"  Then  shall  he  die."  2     And  Gareth  there  unlaced 
955  His  helmet  as3  to  slay  him,  but  she  shriek'd, 

"  Be  not  so  hardy,  scullion,  as  to  slay 

One  nobler  than  thyself."     "  Damsel,  thy  charge 

Is  an  abounding  pleasure  to  me.     Knight, 

Thy  life  is  thine  at  her  command.     Arise 
960  And  quickly  pass  to  Arthur's  hall,  and  say 

His  kitchen-knave  hath  sent  thee.     See  thou  crave 

His  pardon  for  thy  breaking  of  his  laws. 

Myself,  when  I  return,  will  plead  for  thee. 

Thy  shield  is  mine4 — farewell;  and,  damsel,  thou 
965  Lead,  and  I  follow." 

And  fast  away  she  fled. 
Then  when  he  came  upon  her,  spake,  "  Methought,* 
Knave,  when  I  watch 'd  thee  striking  on  the  bridge 
The  savor  of.  thy  kitchen  came  upon  me 
A  little  faintlier:  but  the  wind  hath  changed: 
970  I  scent  it  twentyfold."     And  then  she  sang, 
"  '  0  morning  star '  (not  that  tall  felon  there 
Whom  thou  by  sorcery  or  unhappine688 

'The   combats  between  Gareth  and  the  <  He  takes  the  shield  of  the  Morning-Star, 

brothers  have  an  allegorical  meaning,  for  See  11.  1008,  1011. 

which  see  p.  10.  "It   seemed    to  me.      Me  is   here    the 

3  That  is,  if  you  will  not  ask  for  his  life.  dative. 

s  ;ltI  j  .  •  mischance. 


GARETH    AND    LYNETTE. 


Or  some  device,  hast  foully  overthrown), 
'  0  morning  star  that  smilest  in  the  blue, 
975  0  star,  my  morning  dream  hath  proven  true,    . 
Smile  sweetly,  thou !  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. 


5   1 


"  But  thou  begone,  take  counsel,  and  away, 
For  hard  by  here  is  one  that  guards  a  ford — 
The  second  brother  in  their  fool's  parable2  — 
980  Will  pay  thee  all  thy  wages,  and  to  boot.3 

Care  not  for  shame:  thou  art  not  knight  but  knave." 

To  whom  Sir  Gareth  answer'd,  laughingly, 
"  Parables  ?     Hear  a  parable  of  the  knave. 
When  I  was  a  kitchen-knave  among  the  rest 

985  Fierce  was  the  hearth,  and  one  of  my  co-mates 
Own'd  a  rough  dog,  to  whom  he  cast  his  coat, 
'  Guard  it,'  and  there  was  none  to  meddle  with  it.* 
And  such  a  coat  art  thou,  and  thee  the  King 
Gave  me  to  guard,  and  such  a  dog  am  I, 

990  To  worry,  and  not  to  flee — and — knight  or  knave — 
The  knave  that  doth  thee  service  as  full  knight 
Is  all  as  good,  meseems,  as  any  knight 
Toward  thy  sister's  freeing." 

"Ay,  Sir  Knave! 
Ay,  knave,  because  thou  strikest  as  a  knight, 
995  Being  but  knave,  I  hate  thee  all  the  more." 

"  Fair  damsel,  ye  should  worship  6  me  the  more, 
That,  being  but  knave,  I  throw  thine  enemies." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  she  said,  "  but  thou  shalt  meet  thy  match." 

1  These  songs  of  Lynette  are,  of  course,         3  in  addition. 
Tennyson's  way  of  showing  the   gradual         *  No  one  dared  to  touch  it. 

change  of  her  feeling.  s  Worship  and  honor  in  the  old  romances 

2  See  1.  1169  f.  have  much  the  same  sense. 


70  POEMS    OF    KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

So  when  they  touch'd  the  second  riverloop, 

1000  Huge  on  a  huge  red  horse,  and  all  in  mail 

Burnish'd  to  blinding,  shone  the  Noonday  Sun 

Beyond  a  raging  shallow.     As  if  the  flower, 

That  blows  a  globe  of  after  arrowlets, 

Ten  thousandfold  had  grown,  flash'd  the  fierce  shield, 

1005  All  sun;  and  Gareth's  eyes  had  flying  blots 

Before  them  when  he  turn'd  from  watching  him. 
He  from  behind  the  roaring  shallow  roar'd 
"  What  doest  thou,  brother,1  in  my  marches2  here?  " 
And  she  athwart  the  shallow  shrill'd  again, 

1010  "  Here  is  a  kitchen-knave  from  Arthur's  hall 

Hath  overthrown  thy  brother,  and  hath  his  arms." 
"  Ugh!  "  cried  the  Sun,  and  vizoring  up  3  a  red 
And  cipher  face  of  rounded  foolishness, 
Push'd  horse  across  the  foamings  of  the  ford, 

1015  Whom  Gareth  met  midstream;  no  room  was  there 
For  lance  or  tourney-skill:  four  strokes  they  struck 
With  sword,  and  these  were  mighty;  the  new  knight 
Had  fear  he  might  be  shamed;  but  as  the  Sun 
Heaved  up  a  ponderous  arm  to  strike  the  fifth, 

1020  The  hoof  of  his  horse  slipt  in  the  stream,  the  stream 
Descended,  and  the  Sun  was  wash'd  away. 

Then  Gareth  laid  his  lance  athwart  the  ford; 
So  drew  him  home;  but  he  that  would  not  fight, 
As  being  all  bone-battered  on  the  rock, 
1025  Yielded;  and  Gareth  sent  him  to  the  King. 
"  Myself  when  I  return  will  plead  for  thee. 
Lead,  and  I  follow."     Quietly  she  led. 
"  Hath  not  the  good  wind,  damsel,  changed  again  ?  "  4 
"  Nay,  not  a  point: i  nor  art  thou  victor  here. 

»  He  thought  Gareth  was  the  Morning-  ♦  See  1.  %9. 

Star,  because  he  had  taken  his  shield.  •  not  a  point  of  the  compass,  by  which 

3  boundaries.  the  wind  is  commonly  reckoned.     Lynette 

9  covering  by  closing  his  visor.  will  not  yet  admit  that  she  was  wrong. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  71 

1030  There  lies  a  ridge  of  slate  across  the  ford; 

His  horse  thereon  stumbled — ay,  for  I  saw  it. 

"'0  Sun  '  (not  this  strong  fool  who  thou,  Sir  Knave, 
Hast  overthrown  thro'  mere  unhappiness), 
'  0  San,  that  wakenest  all  to  bliss  ©r  pain, 
1035  0  moon,  that  layest  all  to  sleep  again, 

Shine  sweetly :  twice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. ' 

"  What  knowest  thou  '  of  lovesong  or  of  love  ? 
Nay,  nay,  God  wot,  so  thou  wert  nobly  born, 
Thou  hast  a  pleasant  presence.     Yea,  perchance,2 


1040       "  '  O  dewy  flowers  that  open  to  the  sun, 
O  dewy  flowers  that  close  when  day  is  done, 
Blow  sweetly:  twice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me.' 

"What  knowest  thou  of  flowers,  except,  belike, 
To  garnish  meats  with  ?  hath  not  our  good  King 
1045  Who  lent  me  thee,  the  flower  of  kitchendom, 
A  foolish  love  for  flowers  ?  what  stick  ye  round 
The  pasty?  wherewithal  deck  the  boar's  head? 
Flowers  ?  nay,  the  boar  hath  rosemaries  and  bay. 

"  '  0  birds,  that  warble  to  the  morning  sky, 
1050  O  birds,  that  warble  as  the  day  goes  by, 

Sing  sweetly :  twice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me. ' 

"  What  knowest  thou  of  birds,  lark,  mavis,'  merle,4 
Linnet?  what  dream  ye  when  they  utter  forth 
May-music  growing  with  the  growing  light, 
1055  Their  sweet  sun-worship  ?  these  be  for  the  snare 
(So  runs  thy  fancy),  these  be  for  the  spit,6 

1  How  Bhould  a  scullion  know  anything         3  thrush.  4  blackbird. 

/ 1  of  noble  life  ?  6  You  only  think  whether  they  are  suit- 

'/       2  perhaps.  able  for  the  kitchen  or  not. 


V(/y 


72  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Larding  and  basting.     See  thou  have  not  now 
Larded  thy  last,  except '  thou  turn  and  fly. 
There  stands  the  third  fool  of  their  allegory." 

1060       For  there  beyond  a  bridge  of  treble  bow, 
All  in  a  rose-red  from  the  west,  and  all 
Naked  it  seem'd,  and  glowing  in  the  broad 
Deep-dimpled  current  underneath,  the  knight, 
That  named  himself  the  Star  of  Evening,  stood. 

1065       And  Gareth,  "  Wherefore  waits  the  madman  there 
Naked  in  open  dayshine  ?  "     "  Nay,"  she  cried, 
"Not  naked,  only  wrapt  in  hardened  skins 
That  fit  him  like  his  own;  and  so  ye  cleave 
His  armor  off  him,  these  will  turn  the  blade." 

1070       Then  the  third  brother  shouted  o'er  the  bridge, 
"  O  brother-star,  why  shine  ye  here  so  low  ? 
Thy  ward 2  is  higher  up :  but  have  ye  slain 
The  damsel's  champion?  "  and  the  damsel  cried, 

"  No  star  of  thine,  but  shot  from  Arthur's  heaven 
1075  With  all  disaster  unto  thine  and  thee! 

For  both  thy  younger  brethren  have  gone  down 
Before  this  youth;  and  so  wilt  thou,  Sir  Star; 
Art  thou  not  old?" 

"  Old,  damsel,  old  and  hard, 
Old,  with  the  might  and  breath  of  twenty  boys.' 
1080  Said  Gareth,  "  Old,  and  over-bold  in  brag! 

But  that  same  strength  which  threw  the  Morning-Star 
Can  throw  the  Evening." 

Then  that  other  blew 
A  hard  and  deadly  note  upon  the  horn. 

1  unless.  *  P'ace  to  guard. 


GARETH    AND    LYNETTE.  73 

"  Approach  and  arm  me! '      With  slow  steps  from  out 

1085  An  old  storm-beaten,  russet,  many-stain'd 
Pavilion,  forth  a  grizzled  damsel  came, 
And  arm'd  him  in  old  arms,  and  brought  a  helm 
With  but  a  drying  evergreen  for  crest, 
And  gave  a  shield  whereon  the  Star  of  Even 

l#9i  Half-tarnish'd  and  half-bright,  his  emblem,  shone.1 
But  when  it  glittered  over  the  saddle-bow, 
They  madly  hurl'd  together  on  the  bridge, 
And  Gareth  overthrew  him,  lighted,  drew. 
There  met  him  drawn,  and  overthrew  him  again, 

1095  But  up  like  fire  he  started:  and  as  oft 

As  Gareth  brought  him  grovelling  on  his  knees, 
So  many  a  time  he  vaulted  up  again ; 
Till  Gareth  panted  hard,  and  his  great  heart, 
Foredooming 2  all  his  trouble  was  in  vain, 

1100  Labor'd  within  him,  for  he  seem'd  as  one 
That  all  in  later,  sadder  age  begins 
To  war  against  ill  uses  of  a  life, 
But  these  from  all  his  life  arise,  and  cry, 
"  Thou  hast  made  us  lords,  and  canst  not  put  us  down!  " 

1105  He  half  despairs;  so  Gareth  seem'd  to  strike 
Vainly,  the  damsel  clamoring  all  the  while, 
"  Well    done,     knave-knight,     well-stricken,     O     good 

knight-knave — 
O  knave,  as  noble  as  any  of  all  the  knights — 
Shame  me  not,  shame  me  not.     I  have  prophesied — 

1110  Strike,  thou  art  worthy  of  the  Table  Round — 
His  arms  are  old,  he  trusts  the  harden'd  skin — 
Strike — strike — the  wind  will  never  change  again."  ' 
And  Gareth  hearing  ever  stronglier  smote, 
And  hew'd  great  pieces  of  his  armor  off  him, 

1115  But  lash'd  in  vain  against  the  harden'd  skin, 

1  Note  the  difference  from  the  arms  of  the        s  judging  beforehand. 
Morning-Star.  3  See  11.  969,  1038. 


74  POEMS    OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

And  could  not  wholly  bring  him  under,  more 
Than  loud  South  westerns,  rolling  ridge  on  ridge, 
The  buoy  that  rides  at  sea,  and  dips  and  springs 
Forever;  till  at  length  Sir  Gareth's  brand 

1120  Clash'd  his,  and  brake  it  utterly  to  the  hilt. 

"  I  have  thee  now;  "  but  forth  that  other  sprang. 
And,  all  unknightlike,  writhed  his  wiry  arms 
Around  him,  till  he  felt,  despite  his  mail, 
Strangled,  but  straining  ev'n  his  uttermost 

1125  Cast,  and  so  hurl'd  him  headlong  o'er  the  bridge 
Down  to  the  river,  sink  or  swim,  and  cried, 
"Lead,  and  I  follow." 

But  the  damsel  said, 
"I  lead  no  longer;  ride  thou  at  my  side; 
Thou  art  the  kindliest  of  all  kitchen-knaves.1 


JtoJ 


1130       "  '  0  trefoil,  sparkling  on  the  rainy  plain, 
0  rainbow  with  three  colors  after  rain, 
Shine  sweetly:  thrice  my  love  hath  smiled  on  me." 

"  Sir, — and  good  faith,  I  fain  had  added — knight, 
But  that  I  heard  thee  call  thyself  a  knave, — 

1135  Shamed  am  I  that  I  so  rebuked,  reviled, 

Missaid  thee;  noble  I  am;  and  thought  the  King 
Scorn'd  me  and  mine;  and  now  thy  pardon,  friend. 
For  thou  hast  ever  answer'd  courteously, 
And  wholly  bold  thou  art,  and  meek  withal 

1140  As  any  of  Arthur's  best,  but,  being  knave, 

Hast  mazed  my  wit:  I  marvel  what  thou  art." 

"  Damsel,"  he  said,  "  ye  be  not  all  to  blame, 
Saving  that  ye  mistrusted  our  good  King 
Would  handle  scorn,  or  yield  thee,  asking,  one 

>  ecullions.  a  See  1.  976. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  75 

1145  Not  fit  to  cope  thy  quest.'     Ye  said  your  say; 
Mine  answer  was  my  deed.     Good  sooth!  I  hold 
He  scarce  is  knight,  yea  but  half-man,  nor  meet 
To  fight  for  gentle  damsel,  he,  who  lets 
His  heart  be  stirr'd  with  any  foolish  heat 

1150  At  any  gentle  damsel's  waywardness. 

Shamed  ?  care  not!  thy  foul  sayings  fought  for  me: 
And  seeing  now  my  words  are  fair,  methinks, 
There  rides  no  knight,  not  Lancelot,  his  great  self,1 
Hath  force  to  quell  me." 

Nigh  upon  that  hour 

1155  When  the  lone  hern  forgets  his  melancholy, 

Lets  down  his  other  leg,  and  stretching  dreams 
Of  goodly  supper  in  the  distant  pool, 
Then  turn'd  the  noble  damsel  smiling  at  him, 
And  told  him  of  a  cavern  hard  at  hand, 

1160  "Where  bread  and  baken  meats  and  good  red  wine 
Of  Southland,  which  the  Lady  Lyonors 
Had  sent  her  coming  champion,  waited  him. 


h 


Anon  they  past  a  narrow  comb 3  wherein 
Were  slabs  of  rock  with  figures,  knights  on  horse 

1165  Sculptured,  and  deckt  in  slowly-waning  hues. 

"  Sir  Knave,  my  knight,  a  hermit  once  was  here, 
Whose  holy  hand  hath  fashion'd  on  the  rock 
The  war  of  Time  against  the  soul  of  man. 
And  yon  four  fools  have  suck'd  their  allegory 

1170  From  these  damp  walls,  and  taken  but  the  form.4 
Know  ye  not  these  ?  "  and  Gareth  lookt  and  read — 
In  letters  like  to  those  the  vexillary 

1  to  accomplish  your  adventure.  4  The  allegory  as  inscribed  on  the  rock 

a  Lancelot  was  the  most  powerful  of  the  had  a  meauing.    The  brothers  took  but  the 

Knights  of  the  Round  Table.  names  and  forms,  having  no  conception  of 

3  A  comb  is  a  hollow  in  a  hillside.  the  thought  at  bottom. 


76  POEMS  OF   KNIGHTLY  ADVENTURE. 

Hath  left  crag-carven  o'er  the  streaming  Gelt ' — 

"  Phosphorus,"  then  "  Mekidies  " — "  Hesperus  "— 

1175  "  Nox  "— "  Mors/  "  beneath  five  figures,  armed  men, 
Slab  after  slab,  their  faces  forward  all, 
And  running  down  the  Soul,  a  Shape  that  fled 
"With  broken  wings,  torn  raiment  and  loose  hair, 
For  help  and  shelter  to  the  hermit's  cave.3 

1180  "  Follow  the  faces,  and  we  find  it.     Look, 
Who  comes  behind  ?  " 

For  one — delay'd  at  first 
Thro'  helping  back  the  dislocated  Kay 
To  Camelot,  then  by  what  thereafter  chanced, 
The  damsel's  headlong  error 4  thro'  the  wood — 

1185  Sir  Lancelot  having  swum  the  river-loops — 
His  blue  shield-lions  cover'd — softly  drew 
Behind  the  twain,  and  when  he  saw  the  star  5 
Gleam,  on  Sir  Gareth's  turning  to  him,  cried, 
"  Stay,  felon  knight,  I  avenge  me  for  my  friend." 

1190  And  Gareth  crying  prick 'd  against  the  cry; 

But  when  they  closed — in  a  moment — at  one  touch 
Of  that  skill'd  spear,  the  wonder  of  the  world — 
Went  sliding  down  so  easily,  and  fell, 
That  when  he  found  the  grass  within  his  hands 

1195  He  laugh'd;  the  laughter  jarr'd  upon  Lynette: 

Harshly  she  ask'd  him,  "  Shamed  and  overthrown, 

And  tumbled  back  into  the  kitchen-knave, 

Why  laugh  ye  ?  that  ye  blew  your  boast  in  vain  ?  " 

*  There  are  Roman  inscriptions  cut  in  a  3  The  hermit's  idea  emphasized  the  stnig- 

reck  above  the  Gelt,  a  small  stream  in  Cum-  glc  of  the  soul  in  the  world.    The  soul,  pur- 

berlaild,    One  of   them  has  mention  of  a  sued  by  Youth,  Middle  Age,  Old  Age,  and 

■vencillntio,  or  detachment  of  one  of  the  old  Death,  seeks  refuge  in  Religion. 

Roman  legions.    The  rexillary  would  have  *  wandering  from  the  path, 

been  a  soldier  in  such  a  detachment.  6  Lancelot,  on  seeing  the  shield  of  the 

1  These  are    Latin   names    for    "Morn-  Morning-Star,    thought   Gareth   had   been 

ing  Star,"   "  Midday,"   "  Evening    Star,"  overcome.      A  knight  was  known  by  his 

"Night,"  "Death."  shield. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  77 

"  Nay,  noble  damsel,  but  that  I,  the  son 
1200  Of  old  King  Lot  and  good  Queen  Bellicent, 
And  victor  of  the  bridges  and  the  ford, 
And  knight  of  Arthur,  here  lie  thrown  by  whom 
I  know  not,  all  thro'  mere  unhappiness — 
Device  and  sorcery  and  unhappiness — 
1205  Out,  sword;  we  are  thrown!"  and  Lancelot  answer 'd, 
"  Prince, 
0  Gareth — thro'  the  mere  unhappiness 
Of  one  who  came  to  help  thee  not  to  harm, 
Lancelot,  and  all  as  glad  to  find  thee  whole, 
As  on  the  day  when  Arthur  knighted  him." 

1210       Then  Gareth,  "  Thou — Lancelot! — thine  the  hand 
That  threw  me  ?     And  some  chance  to  mar  the  boast 
Thy  brethren  of  thee  make — which  could  not  chance — 
Had  sent  thee  down  before  a  lesser  spear 
Shamed  had  I  been  and  sad — 0  Lancelot — thou! ': 

1215       Whereat  the  maiden,  petulant,  "  Lancelot, 

Why  came  ye  not,  when  call'd  ?  and  wherefore  now 
Come  ye,  not  call'd  ?  I  gloried  in  my  knave, 
"Who  being  still '  rebuked,  would  answer  still 
Courteous  as  any  knight — but  now,  if  knight, 

1220  The  marvel  dies,  and  leaves  me  fool'd  and  trick'd, 
And  only  wondering  wherefore  play'd  upon : 
And  doubtful  whether  I  and  mine  be  scorn'd. 
Where  should  be  truth  if  not  in  Arthur's  hall,2 
In  Arthur's  presence  ?     Knight,  knave,  prince  and  fool, 

1225  I  hate  thee  and  forever." 

And  Lancelot  said, 
"  Blessed  be  thou,  Sir  Gareth!  knight  art  thou 

»  continually. 

«  Yet  even  in  the  court  of  Arthur,  Gareth  had  appeared  deceitfully.    See  1.  291. 


78  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

To  the  King's  best  wish.     0  damsel,  be  ye  wise 
To  call  him  shamed,  who  is  but  overthrown? 
Thrown  have  I  been,  nor  once,  but  many  a  time. 

1230  Victor  from  vanquished  issues  at  the  last, 
And  overthrower  from  being  overthrown. 
With  sword  we  have  not  striven; '  and  thy  good  horse 
And  thou  art  weary;  vet  not  less  I  felt 
Thy  manhood  thro'  that  wearied  lance  of  thine. 

1235  Well  hast  thou  done:  for  all  the  stream  is  freed, 
And  thou  hast  wreak'd  his  justice  on  his  foes, 
And  when  reviled,  hast  answer'd  graciously, 
And  makest  merry,  when  overthrown.     Prince,  Knight, 
Hail,  Knight  and  Prince,  and  of  our  Table  Round!  " 

1240       And  then  when  turning  to  Lynette  he  told 
The  tale  of  Gareth,  petulantly  she  said, 
:i  Ay  well — ay  well — for  worse  than  being  fool'd 
Of  others,  is  to  fool  one's  self.      A  cave, 
Sir  Lancelot,  is  hard  by,  with  meats  and  drinks 

1245  And  forage  for  the  horse,  and  flint  for  fire. 
But  all  about  it  flies  a  honeysuckle. 
Seek,  till  we  find."     And  when  they  sought  and  found, 
Sir  Gareth  drank  and  ate,  and  all  his  life 
Past  into  sleep;  on  whom  the  maiden  gaz'd. 

1250  "  Sound  sleep  be  thine!  sound  cause  to  sleep  hast  thou. 
Wake  lusty !     Seem  I  not  as  tender  to  him 
As  any  mother  ?    Ay,  but  such  a  one 
As  all  day  long  hath  rated  at  her  child, 
And  vext  his  day,  but  blesses  him  asleep — 

1255  Good  lord,  how  sweetly  smells  the  honeysuckle 
In  the  hush'd  night,  as  if  the  world  were  one 
Of  utter  peace,  and  love,  and  gentleness! 
0  Lancelot,  Lancelot  " — and  she  clapt  her  hands — 

1  The  meeting  on  horseback,  lunce  in  rest,  was  generally  followed  by  combat  with  sword 
on  foot. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  79 

"  Full  merry  am  I  to  find  my  goodly  knave 
1260  Is  knight  and  noble.     See  now,  sworn  have  I, 
Else  yon  black  felon  had  not  let  me  pass,1 
To  bring  thee  back  to  do  the  battle  with  him. 
Thus  an  thou  goest,  he  will  fight  thee  first : 
Who  doubts  thee  victor  ?  so  will  my  knight-knave 
1265  Miss  the  full  flower  of  this  accomplishment."  a 

Said  Lancelot,  "  Perad venture  he  you  name, 
May  know  my  shield.     Let  Gareth,  an  he  will, 
Change  his  for  mine,  and  take  my  charger,  fresh, 
Not  to  be  spurr'd,  loving  the  battle  as  well 
1270  As  he  that  rides  him."     "  Lancelot-like,"  she  said, 
"  Courteous  in  this,  Lord  Lancelot,  as  in  all." 

And  Gareth,  wakening,  fiercely  clutch 'd  the  shield; 
*'  Eamp,  ye  lance-splintering  lions,3  on  whom  all  spears 
Are  rotten  sticks!  ye  seem  agape  to  roar! 

1275  Yea,  ramp  and  roar  at  leaving  of  your  lord ! — 
Care  not,  good  beasts,  so  well  I  care  for  you. 
0  noble  Lancelot,  from  my  hold  on  these 
Streams  virtue — fire — thro'  one  that  will  not  shame 
Even  the  shadow  of  Lancelot  under  shield. 

1280  Hence  let  us  go. " 

Silent  the  silent  field 
They  traversed.     Arthur's  harp 4  tho'  summer-wan, 
In  counter-motion 6  to  the  clouds,  allured 
The  glance  of  Gareth  dreaming  on  his  liege. 
A  star  shot:  "  Lo,"  said  Gareth,  "  the  foe  falls!  " 
1285  An  owl  whoopt:  "  Hark  the  victor  pealing  there!  " 

1  See  11.  604,  605.  so  dark  as  in  winter,  so  that  the  stars  seem 

9  deed  accomplished.  less  bright. 

3  on  Lancelot's  shield.  6  The  clouds  passing  over  the  star  made  it 

*  "  Arthur's  Harp  "  was  the  name  of  a  seem  as  thojgh  it  were  going  in  the  contrary 

constellation  or  of  a  star.    It  is  pale  in  sum-  direction.      Counter-motion  means  motion 

mer  because  in  summer  the  nights  are  not  the  other  wa.y. 


80  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Suddenly  she  that  rode  upon  his  left 
Clung  to  the  shield  that  Lancelot  lent  him  crying, 
"  Yield,  yield  him  this  again:  'tis  he  must  fight: ' 
I  curse  the  tongue  that  all  thro'  yesterday 
1290  Reviled  thee,  and  hath  wrought  on  Lancelot  now 

To  lend  thee  horse  and  shield:  wonders  ye  have  done; 
Miracles  ye  cannot:  here  is  glory  enow 

having  flung  the  three:  I  see  thee  maim'd, 
Mangled:  I  swe»e4hou  canst  not  fling  the  fourth." 

1295       "  And  wherefore,  damsel  ?  tell  me  all  ye  know. 
Ye  cannot  scare  me;  nor  rough  face,  or  voice, 
Brute  bulk  of  limb,  or  boundless  savagery 
Appall  me  from  the  quest." 

"Nay,  Prince,"  she  cried, 
"  God  Avot,  I  never  look'd  upon  the  face, 

1300  Seeing  he  never  rides  abroad  by  day; 

But  watch 'd  him  have  I  like  a  phantom  pass 
Chilling  the  night:  nor  have  I  heard  the  voice. 
Always  he  made  his  mouthpiece  of  a  page 
Who  came  and  went,  and  still  reported  him 

1305  As  closing  in  himself  the  strength  of  ten, 
And  when  his  anger  tare  him,  massacring 
Man,  woman,  lad  and  girl — yea,  the  soft  babe — 
Some  hold  that  he  hath  svvallow'd  infant  flesh, 
Monster!  O  Prince,  I  went  for  Lancelot  first, 

1310  The  quest  is  Lancelot's:  give  him  back  the  shield." 

Said  Gareth  laughing,  "  An  he  fight  for  this, 
Belike  he  wins  it  as  the  better  man : 
Thus — and  not  else  ?  " 

But  Lancelot  on  him  urged 
All  the  devisings  of  their  chivalry 

1  Lynette  was  seized  with  sudden  fear  ;  she  had  wished  that  Oareth  should  have  all  the 
honor  :  now  she  fears  the  danger  so  much  that  she  wishes  Lancelot  to  take  the  adventure. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  81 

1315  Where  one  might  meet  a  mightier  than  himself; 

How  best  to  manage  horse,  lance,  sword  and  shield, 
And  so  fill  up  the  gap  where  force  might  fail 
AVith  skill  and  fineness.1     Instant2  were  his  words. 

Then  Gareth,  "  Here  be  rules.     I  know  but  one — 
1320  To  dash  against  mine  enemy  and  to  win. 

Yet  have  I  watch'd  thee  victor  in  the  joust, 
And  seen  thy  way."3       "Heaven    help  thee,"  sigh'd 
Lynette. 

Then  for  a  space,  and  under  cloud  that  grew 
To  thunder-gloom  palling  all  stars,  they  rode 

1325  In  converse  till  she  made  her  palfrey  halt, 

Lifted  an  arm,  arid  softly  whisper'd,  "  There." 
And  all  the  three  were  silent  seeing,  pitch'd 
Beside  the  Castle  Perilous  on  flat  field, 
I A  huge  pavilion  like  a  mountain  peak 

1330  Sunder  the  glooming  crimson  on  the  marge, 

Black,  with  black  banner,  and  a  long  black  horn 
iBeside  it  hanging;  which  Sir  Gareth  graspt, 
And  so,  before  the  two  could  hinder  him, 
Sent  all  his  heart  and  breath  thro'  all  the  horn. 

1335  Echo'd  the  walls;  a  light  twinkled;  anon 

Came  lights  and  lights,  and  once  again  he  blew; 
Whereon  were  hollow  tramplings  up  and  down 
And  muffled  voices  heard,  and  shadows  past; 
Till  high  above  him,  circled  with  her  maids, 

1340  The  Lady  Lyonors  at  a  window  stood, 

Beautiful  among  lights,  and  waving  to  him 
White  hands,  and  courtesy;  but  when  the  Prince 
Three  times  had  blown — after  long  hush — at  last — 
The  huge  pavilion  slowly  yielded  up, 

1  delicacy.  »  In  spite  of  his  headlong  dash,  Gareth 

*  pressing.  had  noticed  Lancelot  carefully. 


82  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

1345  Thro'  those  black  foldings,  that  which  housed '  therein. 
High  on  a  nightblack  horse,  in  nightblack  arms, 
With  white  breast-bone,  and  barren  ribs  of  Death, 
And  crown'd  with  fleshless  laughter — some  ten  steps — 
In  the  half  light — through  the  dim  dawn — advanced 

1350  The  monster,  and  then  paused,  and  spake  no  word. 

But  Gareth  spake  and  all  indignantly. 
"  Fool,  for  thou  hast,  men  say,  the  strength  of  ten, 
Canst  thou  not  trustfthe  limbs  thy  God  hath  given, 
But  must,  to  make  the  terror  of  thee  more, 

1355  Trick  thyself  out  in  ghastly  imageries 

Of  that  which  Life  hath  done  with,  and  the  clod, 
Less  dull  than  thou,  will  hide  with  mantling  flowers 
As  if  for  pity  ?  " 3     But  he  spake  no  word; 
Which  set  the  horror  higher:  a  maiden  swoon'd; 

1360  The  Lady  Lyonors  wrung  her  hands  and  wept, 
As  doom'd  to  be  the  bride  of  Night  and  Death; 
Sir  Gareth's  head  prickled  beneath  his  helm; 
And  ev'n  Sir  Lancelot  thro'  his  warm  blood  felt 
Ice  strike,  and  all  that  mark'd  him  were  aghast. 

1365       At  once  Sir  Lancelot's  charger  fiercely  neigh'd — 
At  once  the  black  horse  bounded  forward  with  him. 
Then  those  that  did  not  blink  the  terror,  saw 
That  Death  was  cast  to  ground,  and  slowly  rose. 
But  with  one  stroke  Sir  Gareth  split  the  skull. 

1370  Half  fell  to  right  and  half  to  left  and  lay. 

Then  with  a  stronger  buffet  he  cleft  the  helm 
As  throughly 3  as  the  skull;  and  out  from  this 
Issued  the  bright  face  of  a  blooming  boy 
Fresh  as  a  flower  new-born,  and  crying,  "  Knight, 

1375  Slay  me  not:  my  three  brethren  bade  me  do  it, 

»  dwelt. 

*  Even  the  earth  hides  the  dead  with  flowers  rather  than  with  signs  of  mourning 

»  entirely. 


GARETH   AND   LYNETTE.  83 

To  make  a  horror  all  about  the  house, 

And  stay  the  world  from  Lady  Lyonors. 

They  never  dream'd  the  passes  would  be  past." 

Answer'd  Sir  Gareth  graciously  to  one 
1380  Not  many  a  moon  his  younger,  "  My  fair  child, 

What  madness  made  thee  challenge  the  chief  knight 

Of  Arthur's  hall  ?  "     "  Fair  Sir,  they  bade  me  do  it. 

They  hate  the  King,  and  Lancelot,  the  King's  friend, 

They  hoped  to  slay  him  somewhere  on  the  stream, 
1385  They  never  dream'd  the  passes  could  be  past." 

Then  sprang  the  happier  day  from  under-ground; 
And  Lady  Lyonors  and  her  house,  with  dance 
And  revel  and  song,  made  merry  over  Death, 
As  being  after  all  their  foolish  fears 
1390  And  horrors  only  prov'n  a  blooming  boy. 

So  large  mirth  lived,  and  Gareth  won  the  quest. 

And  he  that  told  the  tale  in  older  times 
Says  that  Sir  Gareth  wedded  Lyonors, 
But  he,  that  told  it  later,  says  Lynette. ' 

1  "  He  that  told  the  tale  in  older  times  "     Gareth  had  really  fought  for  Lynette,  and 
is  Malory  (p.  9).      But  Tennyson  feels  that     that  it  is  Lynette  whom  he  should  win. 


V* 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM. 
AN   EPISODE. 

And  the  first  gray  of  morning  filled  the  east, 
K>ji  ./  And  the  fog  rose  out  of  the  Oxus  l  stream. 

But  all  the  Tartar 2  camp  along  the  stream      y 
Was  hushed,  and  still  the  men  were  plunged  in  sleep; 
5  Sohrab  alone,  he  slept  not;  all  night  long 
He  had  lain  wakeful,  tossing  on  his  bed; 
But  when  the  gray  dawn  stole  into  his  tent, 
lie  rose,  arm1  clad  himself,  aiid  girt  his  sword, 
And  took  his  horseman's  cloak,  and  left  his  tent, 

10  And  went  abroad  into  the  cold  wet  fog, 

Through  the  dim  camp  to  Peran-Wisa's3  tent. 

Through  the  black  Tartar  tents  he  passed,  which  stood 
Clustering  like  beehives  on  the_low  fiat  strand 

y/  Of  Oxus,  where  the  summer-floods  o'erflow 

15  When  the  sun  melts  the  snows  inhigh  Pamere; 

Through  the  black  tents  he  passed,  o'er  that  low  strand, 
And  to  a  hillock  came,  a  little  back 
From  the  stream's  brink — the  spot  where  first  a  boat, 
Crossing  the  stream  in  summer,4  scrapes  the  land. 

80  The  men  of  former  times  had  crowned  the  top 
With  a  clay  fort;  but  that  was  falPn,  and  now 
The  Tartars  built  there  Peran-Wisa's  tent, 
A  dome5  of  laths,  and  o'er  it  felts  were  spread. 
And  Sohrab  came  there,  and  went  in,  and  stood 

25  Upon  the  thick  piled  carpets  in  the  tent, 

1  a  river  ri^in^  in  the  western  Himalayas.  Asia.    In  11.  117-13.5  the  poet  mentions  u 

It  flows  from  the  plateau  called  Pamere  (1.  number  of  the  tribes. 

15)  or  Pamir,  north  of  Afghanistan,  toward  3  Peran-Wisa,   the  chief    of   the    Tartar 

the  west  and  north  into  the  Aral  Sea.  army. 

a  The  Tartan  Include,  looeely  speaking,  *  when  the  river  was  flooded. 

numbers  of  half-civilized  tribes  of  Central  •  It  was  rather  larger  than  the  other  tenta. 


SOHRAB    AND   RUSTUM.  85 

A    J  "umd  the  old  man  sleeping  on  his  bed 

G        gs  and  felts,  and  near  him  lay  his  arms. 

And  Peran-Wisa  heard  him,  though  the  step 

Was  dulled;  for  he  slept  light,  an  old  man's  sleep; 
30  And  he  rose  quickly  on  one  arm,  and  said : — 
"  Who  art  thou  ?  for  it  is  not  yet  clear  dawn. 

Speak!  is  there  news,  or  any  night  alarm  ?  " 
But  Sohrab  came  to  the  bedside,  and  said: 

"  Thou  know'st  me,  Peran-Wisa!  it  is  I. 
35  The  sun  is  not  yet  risen,  and  the  foe 

Sleep;  but  I  sleep  not;  all  night  long  I  lie 

Tossing  and  wakeful,  and  I  come  to  thee. 

For  so  did  King  Afrasiab  '  bid  me  seek 

Thy  counsel,  and  to  heed  thee  as  thy  son, 
40  In  Samarcand,2  before  the  army  marched; 

And  I  will  tell  thee  what  my  heart  desires. 

Thou  know'st  if,  since  from  Ader-baijan 3  first 

I  came  among  the  Tartars  and  bore  arms, 

I  have  still 4  served  Afrasiab  well,  and  shown, 
45  At  my  boy's  years,  the  courage  of  a  man. 

This  too  thou  know'st,  that  while  I  still  bear  on 

The  conquering  Tartar  ensigns  through  the  world, 

And  beat  the  Persians 5  back  on  every  field, 

I  seek  one  man,  one  man,  and  one  alone — 
50  Rustum/  my  father;  who  I  hoped  should  greet, 

Should  one  day  greet,  upon  some  well-fought  field, 

His  not  unworthy,  not  inglorious  son. 

So  I  long  hoped,  but  him  I  never  find. 

Come  then,  hear  now,  and  grant  me  what  I  ask. 
55  Let  the  two  armies  rest  to-day;  but  I 

1  the  ruler,  for  the  time  being,  of  all  the  epic  of  Persia  (see  p.  11), of  which  a  greu- 

Tartar  tribes  that  would  submit  to  him.  part  consists  of  a  poetical  account  of  the 

*  Samarcand,  in  what  is  now  Turkestan,  struggles  of  the  Persians  with  the  Turanian 
north  of  Afghanistan.  (or  Tartar)  invaders. 

3  in  the  northern  part  of  Persia.  *  Rustum,  the  great  legendary  hero  of 

4  continually.  Persia,  a  champion  of  unconquerable  might 

*  This  tale  is  an  episode  in  the  national      and  power. 

6 


86  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

Will  challenge  forth  the  bravest  Persian  lords 

To  meet  me,  man  to  man;  if  I  prevail, 

Rustuin  will  surely  hear  it;  if  I  fall — 

Old  man,  the  dead  need  no  one,  claim  no  kin. 
60  Dim  is  the  rumor  of  a  common  '  fight, 

Where  host  meets  host,  and  many  names  are  sunk; 

But  of  a  single  combat  fame  speaks  clear." 
He  spoke;  and  Peran-Wisa  took  the  hand 

Of  the  young  man  in  his,  and  sighed,  and  said: 
65       "  0  Sohrab,  an  unquiet  heart  is  thine: 

Canst  thou  not  rest  among  the  Tartar  chiefs, 

And  share  the  battle's  common  chance  with  us 

Who  love  thee,  but  must  press  forever  first, 

In  single  fight  incurring  single  risk, 
70  To  find  a  father  thou  hast  never  seen  ? 

That  were  far  best,  my  son,  to  stay  with  us 

Unmurmuring;  in  our  tents,  while  it  is  war, 

And  when  'tis  truce,2  then  in  Af  rasiab's  towns. 

But,  if  this  one  desire  indeed  rules  all, 
75  To  seek  out  Rustum — seek  him  not  through  fight! 

Seek  him  in  peace,  and  carry  to  his  arms, 

0  Sohrab!  carry  an  unwounded  son! 

But  far  hence  seek  him,  for  he  is  not  here.3 

For  now  it  is  not  as  when  I  was  young, 
80  When  Rustum  was  in  front  of  every  fray; 

But  now  he  keeps  apart,  and  sits  at  home, 

In  Seistan,4  with  Zal,  his  father  old. 

Whether  that  his  own  mighty  strength  at  last 

Feels  the  abhorred  approaches  of  old  age, 
85  Or  in  some  quarrel  with  the  Persian  King.6 

There  cro! — thou  wilt  not?     Yet  my  heart  forebodes 

Danger  or  deatli  awaits  thee  on  this  field. 

Fain  would  I  know  thee  safe  and  well,  though  lost 

'  a  fight  in  which  everybody  is  engaged.         *  Seistan  was  a  province  of  Afghanistan. 
1  a  short  peace.  »  Sec  II.  SSI  ff.         6  Bee  I.  226. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  87 


To  us;  fain  therefore  send  thee  hence,  in  peace 
90  To  seek  thy  father,  not  seek  single  fights 
In  vain; — but1  who  can  keep  the  lion's  cub 
From  ravening,  and  who  govern  Eustnm's  son  ? 
Go,  I  will  grant  thee  what  thy  heart  desires." 
So  said  he,  and  dropped  Sohrab's  hand,  and  left 
95  His  bed,  and  the  warm  rugs  whereon  he  lay; 
And  o'er  his  chilly  limbs  his  woolen  coat 
He  passed,  and  tied  his  sandals  on  his  feet, 
And  threw  a  white  cloak  round  him,  and  he  took 
In  his  right  hand  a  ruler's  staff,  no  sword ; 

100  And  on  his  head  he  set  his  sheepskin  cap, 

Black,  glossy,  curled,  the  fleece  of  Kara-Kul;* 
And  raised  the  curtain  of  his  tent,  and  called 
His  herald  to  his  side,  and  went  abroad. 

The  sun  by  thisjhad  risen,  and  cleared- tlie  fog     y 

105  From  the  broad  Oxus_and  the  glittering  sands.     ^ 
And  from  their  tents  the  Tartar  horsemen  filed 
Into  the  open  plain;  so  Hainan  bade — 
Haman,  who  next  to  Peran-Wisa  ruled 
The  host,  and  still  was  in  his  lusty  prime. 

110  From  their  black  tents,  long  files  of  horse,  they  streamed; 
As  when  some  gray  November  morn  the  files, 
In  marching  order  spread,  of  long-necked  cranes 
Stream  over  Casjgju  3  and  the  southern  slopes 
Of  Elburz,4  from  the  Aralian  5  estuaries, 

115  Or  some  frore '  Caspian  5  reed-bed,  southward  bound 
For  the  warm  Persian  seaboard — so  they  streamed. 
The  Tartars  of  the  Oxus^the  King's  guard, 

1  The  dash  indicates  a  break  in  the  con-  4  a  chain  of  mountains  running  south  of 
etruction.      Peran-Wisa  sees  the  hopeless-  the  present  northern  boundary  of  Persia. 
ness  of  what  he  is  saying,  and  stops  short.  5  The  Caspian  and  the  Aral  Sea  are  both 

2  Kara-Kul  is  in  Bokhara.    This  passage  north  of  Persia.    The  cranes  were  migrat- 
is  rather  characteristic  of  Arnold's  style  (p.  ing  southward  for  the  winter. 

31),  but  the  detail  is  carried  to  an  excess         6  frozen. 

that  is  almost  prosaic.  7  In  the  following  passage  Arnold  uses 

3  a  city  of  Persia.  geographical  names  with  a  view  of  giving  a 


88  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

First,  with  black  sheepskin  caps  and  with  long  spears-, 
Large  men,  large  steeds;  who  from  Bokhara  come 

120  And  Khiva,  and  ferment  the  milk  of 'mares. 

Next,  the  more  temperate  Toorkmnns  of  the  south, 
The  Tukas,  and  the  lances  of  Salore, 
And  those  from  At  track  and  the  Caspian  sands; 
Light  men  and  on  light  steeds,  who  only  drink 

125  The  acrid  milk  of  camels,  and  their  wells. 

And  then  a  swarm  of  wandering  horse,  who  came 
From  far,  and  a  more  doubtful  service  owned; 
The  Tartars  of  Ferghana,  from  the  banks 
Of  the  Jaxartes,  men  with  scanty  beards 

130  And  close-set  skull  caps;  and  those  wilder  hordes 
Who  roam  o'er  Kipchak  and  the  northern  waste, 
Kalmucks  and  unkempt  Kuzzaks,  tribes  who  stray 
Nearest  the  Pole,  and  Avandering  Kirghizzes, 
Who  come  on  shaggy  ponies  from  Pamere* ; 

135  These  all  filed  out  from  camp  into  the  plain. 
And  on  the  other  side  the  Persians  formed; — 
First  a  light  cloud  of  horse,  Tartars  they  seemed, 
The  Ilyats '  of  Khorassan,2  and  behind, 
The  royal  troops  of  Persia,  horse  and  foot, 

140  Marshaled  battalions  bright  in  burnished  steel.' 
Bat  PeranAYisa  with  his  herald  came, 
Threading  the  Tartar  squadrons  to  the  front, 
And  with  his  staff  kept  back  the  foremost  ranks. 

general  effect  of  variety  and  greatness.    It  Kalmuck  is  a  very  general  name,  as  also 

is  not  necessary  to  know  the  exact  where-  Kuzzak,  or,  as  more  commonly  spelled,  Cob- 

aboutBOf  each  place,  nor  would  it  be  easy  sacks.     The  Kirghizzes  are  of  Mongolian 

to  tell  without  a  map.    Most  of  the  places  stock,  coining  from  further  east  than   the 

and  people  mentioned  will  he  found  on  any  rest. 

good  modern  map  of  Persia,  Afghanistan,  >  tribes. 

and  Turkestan.    TheOznfl  Is  now  called  the  a  an  eastern  province  of  Persia. 

Amu  Daria.    Khiva  ami  Bokhara  will  be  •  The  Persians  were  a  more  civilized  peo- 

easily   found.     The  Toorkmans  are    more  pie  than  the  Tartars,  and   had  attained  a 

commonly  called  Turcomans.    TheAttrnck  greater  military  discipline,  although  they 

empties   into  the   Caspian.     The  Jaxartes,  larked  the  wild  fierceness  and  courage  of 

now   called  tiie  sir   Daria,  empties  into  the  the  Tartar  host:  see  also  line  193  and  the 

Aral  Sea.     Ferghana  is  a  part  of  Turkestan,  note  on  it. 


A 


SOHRAB   AND   KUSTUM.  89 

And  when  Ferood,  who  led  the  Persians,  saw 

145  That  Perau-Wisa  kept  the  Tartars  back, 

He  took  his  spear,  and  to  the  front  he  came, 

And  checked  his  ranks,  and  fixed  them  where  they  stood. 

And  the  old  Tartar  came  npon  the  sand 

Betwixt  the  silent  hosts,  and  spake,  and  said: 

150       "  Ferood,  and  ye,  Persians  and  Tartars,  hear! 
Let  there  be  truce  between  the  hosts  to-day. 
But  choose  a  champion  from  the  Persian  lords 
To  fight  our  champion  Sohrab,  man  to  man." 
As,  in  the  country,  on  a  morn  in  June, 

155  When  the  dew  glistens  on  the  pearled  ears, 
T~~ A  shiver  runs  through  the  deep  corn  for  joy — 
So,  when  they  heard  what  Peran-Wisa  said, 
A  thrill  through  all  the  Tartar  squadrons  ran 
Of  pride  and  hope  for  Sohrab,  whom  they  loved. 

160       But  as  a  troop  of  peddlers,  fi^mCabpol,1 
Crfoss  underneath  the  Indian  Caucasus,2 
s^.*    That  vast  sky-neighboring  mountain  of  milk  snow; 
Crossing  so  high,  that,  as  they  mount,  they  pass 
Long  flocks  of  traveling  birds  dead  on  the  snow, 

165  Choked  by  the  air,3  and  scarce  can  they  themselves 
Slake  their  parched  throats  with  sugared  mulberries — 
In  single  file  they  move,  and  stop  their  breath, 
For  fear  they  should  dislodge  the  o'erhanging  snows — 
So  the  pale  Persians  held  their  breath  with  fear. 

170       And  to  Ferood  his  brother  chiefs  came  up 
To  counsel;  Gudurz  and  Zoarrah  came, 
And  Feraburz,  who  ruled  the  Persian  host 
Second,  and  was  the  uncle  of  the  King; 
Tliese  came  and  counseled,  and  then  Gudurz  said: 

175       "  Ferood,  shame  bids  us  take  their  challenge  up, 

1  th^a^jtaTbf  Afghanistan.  is  almost  impossible  to  breathe  it.    These 

2  the  Hindoo  Koosh  Mountains.  birds  had  flown  so  high  in  trying  to  get 
•  The  higher  one  goes  the  more  rarefied     over  the  great   mountains,  that  they  had 

becomes  the  air,  until  upon  great  heights  it     risen  to  where  the  air  was  unbreathable. 


90  POEMS    OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Yet  champion  have  we  none  to  match  this  youth. 
He  has  the  wild  stag's  foot,  the  lion's  heart. 
But  Rustum  came  last  night;  aloof  he  sits 
And  sullen,  and  has  pitched  his  tents  apart. 

180  Him  will  I  seek,  and  carry  to  his  ear 

The  Tartar  challenge  and  this  young  man's  name. 
Haply  he  will  forget  his  wrath,  and  fight. 
Stand  forth  the  while,  and  take  their  challenge  up." 
So  spake  he;  and  Ferood  stood  forth  and  cried: 

185  "  Old  man,  be  it  agreed  as  thou  hast  said! 
Let  Sohrab  arm,  and  we  will  find  a  man." 

He  spake:  and  Peran-Wisa  turned,  and  strode 
Back  through  the  opening  squadrons  to  his  tent. 
But  through  the  anxious  Persians  Gudnrz  ran, 

190  And  crossed  the  camp  which  lay  behind,  and  reached, 
Out  on  the  sands  beyond  it,  Rustum's  tents. 
Of  scarlet  cloth1  they  were,  and  glittering  gay, 
Just  pitched;  the  high  pavilion  in  the  midst 
Was  Rustum's,  and  his  men  lay  camped  around. 

195  And  Gudurz  entered  Rustum's  tent,  and  found 
,*.  Rustum;  his  morning  meal  was  done,  but  still 

The  table  stood  before  him,  charged  with  food — 
A  side  of  roasted  sheep,  and  cakes  of  bread, 
And  dark-green  melons;  and  there  Rustum  sate 

200  Listless,  and  held  a  falcon  a  en  his  wrist, 

And  played  with  it;  but  Gudurz  came  and  stood 
Before  him;  and  he  looked,  and  saw  him  stand, 
And  with  a  cry  sprang  up  and  dropped  the  bird, 
And  greeted  Gudurz  with  both  hands,  and  said: 

205       "  Welcome!  these  eyes  could  see  no  better  sight. 
What  news?  but  sit  down  first,  and  eat  and  drink." 
But  Gudnrz  stood  in  the  tent-door,  and  said: 

1  Note  the  greater  luxury  among  the  Per-     of    birds  with    trained   falcons,   has  been 
iaa  than  among  the  Tartars,  prevalent  in  the  East  from  most  ancient 

3  The  sport  of  falconry,  or  the  hunting     times. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  91 

"  Not  now!  a  time  will  come  to  eat  and  drink, 
But  not  to-day;  to-day  has  other  needs. 

210  The  armies  are  drawn  out,  and  stand  at  gaze; 
For  from  the  Tartars  is  a  challenge  brought 
To  pick  a  champion  from  the  Persian  lords 
To  fight  their  champion — and  thou  know'st  his  name — 
Sohrab  men  call  him.  but  his  birth  is  hid.1 

215  0  Eustum,  like  thy  might  is  this  young  man's! 
He  has  the  wild  stag's  foot,  the  lion's  heart; 
And  he  is  young,  and  Iran's2  chiefs  are  old, 
Or  else  too  weak;  and  all  eyes  turned  to  thee. 
Come  down  and  help  us,  Eustum,  or  we  lose!  " 
He  spoke;  but  Eustum  answered  with  a  smile: 

220  "  Go  to!  if  Iran's  chiefs  are  old,  then  I 

Am  older;  if  the  young  are  weak,  the  King 
Errs  strangely;  for  the  King,  for  Kai  Khosroo,3 
Himself  is  young,  and  honors  younger  men, 

225  And  lets  the  aged  molder  in  their  graves. 

Eustum  he  loves  no  more,  but  loves  the  young — 
The  youug  may  rise  at  Sohrab's  vaunts,  not  I. 
For  what  care  I,  though  all  speak  Sohrab's  fame? 
For  would  that  I  myself  had  such  a  son,4 

230  And  not  that  one  slight  helpless  girl b  I  have — 
A  son  so  famed,  so  brave,  to  send  to  war, 
And  I  to  tarry  with  the  snow-haired  Zal,6 
My  father,  whom  the  robber  Afghans7  vex 
And  clip  his  borders  short,  and  drive  his  herds, 

235  And  he  has  none  to  guard  his  weak  old  age. 
There  would  I  go,  and  hang  my  armor  up, 
And  with  my  great  name  fence  that  weak  old  man, 

1  This  was,  of  course,  the  reason  for  all     born  with  snow-white  hair.    This  was  con- 

the  evil  that  followed.  sidered  unpropitious,  and  the  child  was  es- 

a  Iran,  the  Persian  name  for  Persia.  posed  on  the  mountains.     He  was  found 

3  Cyrus  the  Great.  and  brought  up,  however,  by  the  Simurgh, 

4  This  is  the  poet's  irony.  a  wonderful  griffin.     See  11.  679-682. 

6  See  p.  11.  7  Seistan,  where  Zal  then  lived,  is  now  a 

6  Zal,  the  father  of  Rustum,  had  been     part  of  Afghanistan. 


92  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

And  spend  the  goodly  treasures  I  have  got, 

And  rest  my  age,  and  hear  of  Sohrab's  fame, 
240  And  leave  to  death  the  hosts  of  thankless  kings, 

And  with  these  slaughterous  hands  draw  sword  no  more." 
He  spoke,  and  smiled;  and  Gudurz  made  reply: 

••  What  then,  0  Rustum,  will  men  say  to  this, 

When  Sohrab  dares  our  bravest  forth,  and  seeks 
245  Thee  most  of  all,  and  thou,  whom  most  he  seeks, 

Hidest  thy  face?     Take  heed  lest  men  should  say: 

'  Like  some  old  miser,  Rustum  hoards  his  fame, 

And  shuns  to  peril  it  with  younger  men.'  " 

And,  greatly  moved,  then  Rustum  made  reply: 
250  "  0  Gudurz,  wherefore  dost  thou  say  such  words? 

Thou  knowest  better  words  than  this  to  say. 

What  is  one  more,  one  less,  obscure  or  famed, 

Valiant  or  craven,  young  or  old,  to  me  ? 

Are  not  they  mortal,  am  not  I  myself? 
255  But  who  for  men  of  naught  would  do  great  deeds  ? 

Come,  thou  shalt  see  how  Rustum  hoards  his  fame! 

But  I  will  fight  unknown,  and  in  plain  arms; 

Let  not  men  say  of  Rustum,  he  was  matched 

In  single  fight  with  any  mortal  man." 
2G0       He  spoke,  and  frowned;  and  Gudurz  turned,  and  ran 

Back  quickly  through  the  camp  in  fear  and  joy — 

Fear  at  his  wrath,  but  joy  that  Rustum  came. 

But  Rustum  strode  to  his  tent  door,  and  called 

His  followers  in,  and  bade  them  bring  his  arms, 
265  And  clad  himself  in  steel;  the  arms  he  chose 

Were  plain,  and  on  his  shield  was  no  device, 

Only  his  helm  was  rich,  inlaid  with  gold, 

And,  from  the  fluted  spine  atop,  a  plume 

Of  horsehair  waved,  a  scarlet  horsehair  plume. 
270  So  armed,  he  issued  forth;  and  Ruksh,1  his  horse, 

i  In  legends  of  chivalry  the  horse  and  the  sword  of  the  hero  arc  well-nigh  as  famous 
as  himself. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  93 

Followed  him  like  a  faithful  hound  at  heel — 
Ruksh,  whose  renown  was  noised  through  all  the  earth, 
The  horse,  whom  Rustum  on  a  foray  once 
Did  in  Bokhara  by  the  river  find 

275  A  colt  beneath  its  dam,  and  drove  him  home, 
And  reared  him;  a  bright  bay,  with  lofty  crest, 
Dight '  with  a  saddlecloth  of  broidered  green 
Crusted  with  gold,  and  on  the  ground  were  worked 
All  beasts  of  chase,  all  beasts  which  hunters  know. 

280  So  followed,  Rustum  left  his  tents,  and  crossed 
The  camp,  and  to  the  Persian  host  appeared. 
And  all  the  Persians  knew  him,  and  with  shouts 
Hailed ;  but  the  Tartars  knew  not  who  he  was. 
And  dear  as  the  wet  diver  to  the  eyes 

285  Of  his  pale  wife  who  waits  and  weeps  on  shore, 
By  sandy  Bahrein,2  in  the  Persian  Gulf, 
Plunging  all  day  in  the  blue  waves,  at  night, 
Having  made  up  his  tale  3  of  precious  pearls, 
Rejoins  her  in  their  hut  upon  the  sands — 

290  So  dear  to  the  pale  Persians  Rustum  came. 

And  Rustum  to  the  Persian  front  advanced, 
And  Sohrab  armed  in  Hainan's  tent,  and  came. 
And  as  afield  the  reapers  cut  a  swath 
Down  through  the  middle  of  a  rich  man's  corn, 

295  And  on  each  side  are  squares  of  standing  corn, 
And  in  the  midst  a  stubble,  short  and  bare — 
So  on  each  side  were  squares  of  men,  with  spears 
Bristling,  and  in  the  midst,  the  open  sand. 
And  Rustum  came  upon  the  sand,  and  cast 

300  His  eyes  toward  the  Tartar  tents,  and  saw 
Sohrab  come  forth,  and  eyed  him  as  he  came. 

As  some  rich  woman,  on  a  winter's  morn, 
Eyes  through  her  silken  curtains  the  poor  drudge 
Who  with  numb  blackened  fingers  makes  her  fire — 

i  clothed,  caparisoned.      2  an  island  famous  for  its  pearl-diving.     '  the  required  amount. 


94  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

305  At  cockcrow,  on  a  starlit  winter's  morn, 

When  the  frost  flowers  the  whitened  window-panes1 — 
And  wonders  how  she  lives,  and  what  the  thoughts 
Of  that  poor  drudge  may  be;  so  Rustum  eyed 
The  unknown  adventurous  Youth,  who  from  afar 

310  Came  seeking  Eustum,  and  defying  forth 
All  the  most  valiant  chiefs;  long  he  perused* 
His  spirited  air,  and  wondered  who  he  was. 
For  very  young  he  seemed,  tenderly  reared ; 
Like  some  young  cypress,  tall,  and  dark,  and  straight, 

315  Which  in  a  queen's  secluded  garden  throws 
Its  slight  dark  shadow  on  the  moonlit  turf, 
By  midnight,  to  a  bubbling  fountain's  sound- 
So  slender  Sohrab  seemed,  so  softly  reared. 
And  a  deep  pity  entered  Rustum's  60ul 

320  As  he  beheld  him  coming;  and  he  stood, 

And  beckoned  to  him  with  his  hand,  and  said: 

"  0  thou  young  man,  the  air  of  heaven  is  soft, 
And  warm,  and  pleasant;  but  the  grave  is  cold! 
Heaven's  air  is  better  than  the  cold  dead  grave: 

325  Behold  me!  I  am  vast,  and  clad  in  iron, 

And  tried; 3  and  I  have  stood  on  many  a  field 
Of  blood,  and  I  have  fought  with  many  a  foe — 
Xever  was  that  field  lost,  or  that  foe  saved. 
0  Sohrab,  wherefore  wilt  thou  rush  on  death? 

330  Be  governed!  quit  the  Tartar  host,  and  come 
To  Iran,  and  be  as  my  son4  to  me, 
And  fight  beneath  my  banner  till  I  die! 
There  are  no  youths  in  Iran  brave  as  thou." 
So  he  spake,  mildly;  Sohrab  heard  his  voice, 

335  The  mighty  voice  of  Rustum,  and  he  saw 

'  This  simile,  so  obviously  drawn  from  3  experienced,  proved, 

modern  life,  hardly  seems  so  much  in  keep-  «  Here  again  the  irony  of  the  poet,  and 

"  ing  with  the  general  tone  of  the  poem  as  do  here,  as  later  in  I.  447,  the  evil  outcome 

others.  hangs  in  the  balance.     But  Fate  is  deter- 

*  examined  carefully.  mined  :  see  1.  709. 


SOHRAB   AND    RUSTUM.  95 

His  giant  figure  planted  on  the  sand, 
Sole,  like  some  single  tower,  which  a  chief 
Hath  builded  on  the  waste  in  former  years 
Against  the  robbers;  and  he  saw  that  head, 

340  Streaked  with  its  first  gray  hairs; — hope  filled  his  soul, 
And  he  ran  forward  and  embraced  his  knees, 
And  clasped  his  hand  within  his  own,  and  said: 

"  Oh,  by  thy  father's  head!  by  thine  own  soul! 
Art  thou  not  Rustum?  speak!  art  thou  not  he?" 

345       But  Rustum  eyed  askance  the  kneeling  youth, 
And  turned  away,  and  spake  to  his  own  soul: 

"  Ah  me,  I  muse  what  this  young  fox  may  mean! 
False,  wily,  boastful,  are  these  Tartar  boys. 
For  if  I  now  confess  this  thing  he  asks, 

350  And  hide  it  not,  but  say:  '  Rustum  is  here!'' 
He  will  not  yield  indeed,  nor  quit  our  foes, 
"But  he  will  find  some  pretext  not  to  fight, 

And  praise  my  fame,  and  proffer  courteous  gifts, 
A  belt  or  sword  perhaps,  and  go  his  way.  -    > 

355  And  on  a  feast-tide,  in  Afrasiab's  hall, 
In  Samarcand,  he  will  arise  and  cry: 
'  I  challenged  once,  when  the  two  armies  camped-  , 

Beside  the  Oxus,._all  the  Persian  lords  \s 

To  cope  with  me  in  single  fight;  but  they 

360  Shrank,  only  Rustum  dared;  then  he  and  I 
Changed  gifts,  aud  went  on  equal  terms  away.' 
So  will  he  speak,  perhaps,  while  men  applaud; 
Then  were  the  chiefs  of  Iran  shamed  through  me." 
And  then  he  turned,  and  sternly  spake  aloud: 

365  "Rise!  wherefore  dost  thou  vamly  question  thus  • 
Of  Rustum  ?     I  am  here,  whom  thou  hast  called 
By  challenge  forth;  make  good  thy  vaunt,  or  yield! 
Is  it  with  Rustum  only  thou  wouldst  fight? 
Rash  boy,  men  look  on  Rustum's  face  and  flee! 

370  For  well  I  know,  that  did  great  Rustum  stand 


96  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Before  thy  face  this  day,  and  were  revealed, 
'  There  would  be  then  no  talk  of  righting  more. 

But  being  what  I  am,  I  tell  thee  this — 

Do  thou  record  it  in  thine  inmost  soul: 
375  Either  thou  shalt  renounce  thy  vaunt  and  yield, 

Or  else  thy  bones  shall  strew  this  sand,  till  winds 

Bleach  them,  or  Oxus  wUhJug-Sumrner  floods, 
^  OxusJji_sjiminejLjy^^ 

He  spoke;  and  Sohrab  answered,  on  his  feet: 
380  "  Art  thou  so  fierce?     Thou  wilt  not  fright  me  so! 

I  am  no  girl;  to  be  made  pale  by  words. 

Yet  this  thou  hast  said  well,  did  Ivustum  stand 

Here  on  this  field,  there  were  no  lighting  then. 

But  Rustum  is  far  hence,  and  Ave  stand  here. 
385  Begin !  thou  art  more  vast,  more  dread  than  I, 

And  thou  art  proved,  I  know,  and  I  am  young. 

But  yet  success  sways '  with  the  breath  of  heaven. 

And  though  thou  thinkest  that  thou  knowest  sure 

Thy  victory,  yet  thou  canst  not  surely  know. 
390  For  we  are  all,  like  swimmers  in  the  sea, 

Poised  on  the  top  of  a  huge  wave  of  fate,* 

Which  hangs  uncertain  to  which  side  to  fall. 

And  whether  it  will  heave  us  up  to  land, 

Or  whether  it  will  roll  us  out  to  sea, 
305  Back  out  to  sea,  to  the  deep  waves  of  death, 

We  know  not,  and  no  search  will  make  us  know; 

<  inly  the  event 3  will  teach  us  in  its  hour." 

He  spoke,  and  Rustum  answered  not,  but  hurled 

His  spear;  down  from  the  shoulder,  down  it  came, 
400  As  on  some  partridge  in  the  corn  a  hawk, 

That  long  has  towered  in  the  airy  clouds, 

Drops  like  a  plummet;  Sohrab  saw  it  come, 

And  sprang  aside,  quick  as  a  flash;  the  spear 

>  Success    goes    this    way   and    that,   as         J  We  have  litre  the  only  long  metaphor  in 
heaven  directs.  the  poem.  3  the  outcome. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  *  97 

Hissed,  and  went  quivering  down  into  the  sand,  | 

405  Which  it  sent  flying  wide; — then  Sohrab  threw    ,; ^ 
In  turn,  and  full  struck  Rustnm's  shield;  sharp  rang, 
The  iron  plates  rang  sharp,  but  turned  the  spear. 
And  Rustum  seized  his  club,  which  none  but  he 
Could  wield;  an  unlopped '  trunk  it  was,  and  huge, 

410  Still  rough — like  those  which  men  in  treeless  plains 
To  build  them  boats  fish  from  the  flooded  rivers, 
Hypha6is  or  Hydaspes/  when,  high  up 
By  their  d&Vk  springs,  the  wind  in  winter  time 
Hath  made  in  Himalayan  forests  wrack,3 

415  And  strewn  the  channels  with  torn  boughs — so  huge 
The  club  Which  Rustum  lifted  now,  and  struck 
One  stroke;  but  again  Sohrab  sprang  aside, 
Lithe  as  the  glancing  snake,  and  the  club  came 
Thundering  to  earth,  and  leapt  from  Rustum's  hand. 

420  And  Rustum  followed  his  own  blow,  and  fell 

To  his  knees,  and  with  his  fingers  clutched  the  sand; 
And  now  might  Sohrab  have  unsheathed  his  sword, 
/And  pierced  the  mighty  Rustum  while  he  lay 
Dizzy,  and  on  his  knees,  and  choked  with  sand; 

425  But  he  looked  on,  and  smiled,  nor  bai'ed  his  sword, 
But  courteously  drew  back,  and  spoke,  and  said : 

"Thou  strik'st  too  hard!  that  club  of  thine  will  float 
Upon  the  summer  floods,  and  not  my  bones. 
But  rise,  and  be  not  wroth!  not  wroth  am  I; 

430  No,  when  I  see  thee,  wrath  forsakes  my  soul. 
Thou  say'st,  thou  art  not  Rustum;  be  it  so! 
Who  art  thou  then,  that  canst  so  touch  my  soul  ? 
Boy  as  I  am,  I  have  seen  battles  too — 
Have  waded  foremost  in  their  bloody  waves, 

435  And  heard  their  hollow  roar  of  dying  men; 
But  never  was  my  heart  thus  touched  before. 

1  with  all  the  branches  on.  the  Indus  ;  the  modern  names  are  Jhelum 

*  rivers  in  northern  India,  running  into     and  Beas.  3  the  same  as  wreck,  ruin. 

7 


#8  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Are  they  from  Heaven,  these  softenings  of  the  heart? 

0  thou  old  warrior,  let  us  yield  to  Heaven! 

Come,  plant  we  here  in  earth  our  angry  spears, 
440  And  make  a  truce,  and  sit  upon  this  sand, 

And  pledge  each  other  in  red  wine,  like  friends. 

And  thou  shalt  talk  to  me  of  Rustum's  deeds. 

There  are  enough  foes  in  the  Persian  host, 

Whom  I  may  meet,  and  strike,  and  feel  no  pang; 
445  Champions  enough  Afrasiab  has,  whom  thou 

Mayst  fight;  fight  than,  when  they  confront  thy  spear! 

But  oh,  let  there  be  peace  'twixt  thee  and  me!"1 
He  ceased,  but  while  he  spake,  Rustum  had  risen, 

And  stood  erect,  trembling  with  rage;  his  club 
450  He  left  to  lie,  but  had  regained  his  spear, 

Whose  fiery  point  now  in  his  mailed  right  hand 

Blazed  bright  and  baleful,  like  that  autumn  star,2 

The  baleful  sign  of  fevers;  dust  had  soiled 

His  stately  crest,  and  dimmed  his  glittering  arms. 
455  His  breast  heaved,  his  lips  foamed,  and  twice  his  voice 

"Was  choked  with  rage;  at  last  these  words  broke  way: 
"  Girl!  nimble  with  thy  feet,  not  with  thy  hands! 

Curled  minion,3  dancer,  coiner4  of  sweet  words! 

Fight,  let  me  hear  thy  hateful  voice  no  more! 
460  Thou  art  not  in  Afrasiab's  gardens  now 

With  Tartar  girls,  with  whom  thou  art  wont  to  dance; 
y        ButjULjlu3_0£u^san^_jiid  in  the  dance 
I  Of  battle,  and  with  me,  who  make  no  play 

Of  war;  I  fight  it  out,  and  hand  to  hand. 
4G5  Speak  not  to  me  of  truce,  and  pledge,  and  wine! 

Remember  all  thy  valor;  try  thy  feints6 

And  cunning!  all  the  pity  I  had  is  gone; 

Because  thou  hast  shamed  me  before  both  the  hosts 

1  See  note  on  I.  331.  s  a  pretended  stroke,  made  to  get  one's 

«  the  Dog-star.  adversary  to  leave  himself  unprotected  in 

s  a  favorite,  a  darling.     *  a  phrase-maker,      trying  to  guard. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  99 

With  thy  light  skipping  tricks,  and  thy  girl's  wiles." 

470      He  spoke,  and  Sohrab  kindled  at  his  taunts, 
And  he  too  drew  his  sword ;  at  once  they  rushed 
Together,  as  two  eagles  on  one  prey 
Come  rushing  down  together  from  the  clouds, 
One  from  the  east,  one  from  the  west;  their  shields 

475  Dashed  with  a  clang  together,  and  a  din 
Eose,  such  as  that  the  sinewy  wood-cutters 
Make  often  in  the  forest's  heart  at  morn, 
Of  hewing  axes,  crashing  trees — such  blows 
Rustum  and  Sohrab  on  each  other  hailed. 

480  And  you  would  say  that  sun  and  stars  took  part 
In  that  unnatural '  conflict;  for  a  cloud 
Grew  suddenly  in  heaven,  and  darked  the  sun         f^tLe6d 
Over  the  fighters'  heads;  and  a  wind  rose  ^ 

Under  their  feet,  and  moaning  swept  the  plain, 

485  And  in  a  sandy  whirlwind  wrapped  the  pair. 

In  gloom  they  twain  were  wrapped,  and  they  alone; 
For  both  the  on-looking  hosts  on  either  hand 
Stood  in  broad  daylight,  and  the_sky  wasjpure, 
Anj_the^un_sparkled  on  the  Oxus_streani.  »-/ 

490  But  in  the  gloom  they  fought,  with  bloodshot  eyes 
And  laboring  breath;  first  Rustum  struck  the  shield 
Which  Sohrab  held  stiff  out;  the  steel-spiked  spear 
Rent  the  tough  plates,  but  failed  to  reach  the  skin, 
And  Rustum  plucked  it  back  with  angry  groan .H 

495  Then  Sohrab  with  his  sword  smote  Rustum's  helm, 
Nor  clove  its  steel  quite  through;  but  all  the  crest 
He  shore  away,  and  that  proud  horsehair  plume, 
Never  till  now  defiled,  sank  to  the  dust; 
And  Rustum  bowed  his  head;  but  then  the  gloom 

500  Grew  blacker,  thunder  rumbled  in  the  air, 

And  lightnings  rent  the  cloud ;  and  Ruksh,  the  horse, 
Who  stood  at  hand,  uttered  a  dreadful  cry; — 

1  between  father  and  son. 


100  POEMS  OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

No  horse's  cry  was  that,  most  like  the  roar 

Of  some  pained  desert  lion,  who  all  day 
50J5  Hath  trailed  the  hunter's' javelin  in  his  side, 

And  comes  at  night  to  die  upon  the  sand. 

The  two  hosts  heard  that  cry,  and  quaked  for  fear, 

And  Oxus  curdled  as  it  crossed  his  stream. 

But  Sohrab  heard,  and  quailed  not,  but  rushed  on, 
510  And  struck  again;  and  again  Rustum  bowed 

His  head;  but  this  time  all  the  blade,  like  glass, 

Sprang  in  a  thousand  shivers  on  the  helm, 

And  in  the  hand  the  hilt  remained  alone. 

Then  Rustum  raised  his  head;  his  dreadful  eyes 
515  Glared,  and  he  shook  on  high  his  menacing  spear, 

And  shouted:  "  Rustum!  " — Sohrab  heard  that  shout, 

And  shrank  amazed:  back  he  recoiled  one  step, 

And  scanned  with  blinking  eyes  the  advancing  form; 

And  then  he  stood  bewildered,  and  he  dropped 
520  His  covering  shield,  and  the  spear  pierced  his  side. 

He  reeled,  and,  staggering  back,  sank  to  the  ground; 

And  then  the  gloom  dispersed,  and  the  wind  fell, 

And  the  bright  sun  broke  forth,  and  melted  all 

The  cloud;  and  the  two  armies  saw  the  pair; — 
525  Saw  Rustum  standing,  safe  upon  his  feet, 

And  Sohrab,  wounded,  on  the  bloody  sand.1 
Then,  with  a  bitter  smile,  Rustum  began : 

"  Sohrab,  thou  thoughtest  in  thy  mind  to  kill 

A  Persian  lord  this  day,  and  strip  his  corpse, 
530  And  bear  thy  trophies  to  Afrasiab's  tent; 

Or  else  that  the  great  Rustum  would  come  down 

Himself  to  fight,  and  that  thy  wiles  would  move 

His  heart  to  take  a  gift,  and  let  thee  go; 

And  then  that  all  the  Tartar  host  would  praise 
535  Thy  courage  or  thy  craft,  and  spread  thy  fame, 

1  Note  the  sudden  change  from  the  stirring  description  of  the  conflict  and  the  calmness 
of  II.  523  626. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM.  101 

To  glad  '  thy  father  in  his  weak  old  age. 

Fool,  thou  art  slain,  and  by  an  unknown  man! 

Dearer  to  the  red  jackals 5  shalt  thou  be 

Than  to  thy  friends,  and  to  thy  father  old." 
540       And,  with  a  fearless  mien,  Sohrab  replied: 

"  Unknown  thou  art;  yet  thy  fierce  vaunt  is  vain. 

Thou 3  dost  not  slay  me,  proud  and  boastful  man ! 

No!     Eustum  slays  me,  and  this  filial  heart. 

For  were  I  matched  with  ten  such  men  as  thee, 
545  And  I  were  that  which  till  to-day  I  was, 

They  should  be  lying  here,  I  standing  there. 

But  that  beloved  name  unnerved  my  arm — 

That  name,  and  something,  I  confess,4  in  thee, 

Which  troubles  all  my  heart,  and  made  my  shield 
550  Fall;  and  thy  spear  transfixed  an  unarmed  foe. 

And  now  thou  boastest,  and  insult'st  my  fate. 

But  hear  thou  this,  fierce  man,  tremble  to  hear: 

The  mighty  Eustum  shall  avenge  my  death! 

My  father,  whom  I  seek  through  all  the  world, 
555  He  shall  avenge  my  death,  and  punish  thee!  " 

As  when  some  hunter  in  the  spring  hath  found 

A  breeding  eagle  sitting  on  her  nest, 

Upon  the  craggy  isle  of  a  hill-lake, 

And  pierced  her  with  an  arrow  as  she  rose, 
560  And  followed  her  to  find  her  where  she  fell 

Far  off ; — anon  her  mate  comes  winging  back 

From  hunting,  and  a  great  way  off  descries 

His  huddling  young  left  sole;  at  that,  he  checks 

His  pinion,  and  with  short  uneasy  sweeps 
565  Circles  above  his  eyry,  with  loud  screams 

Chiding  his  mate  back  to  her  nest-;  but  she 

Lies  dying,  with  the  arrow  in  her  side, 

In  some  far  stony  gorge  out  of  his  ken, 

1  gladden.  3  The  accent  is  upon  the  first  syllable  of 

3  who  prey  upon  dead  bodies.  the  line.  *  See  1.  436. 


102  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

A  heap  of  fluttering  feathers — never  more 

570  Shall  the  lake  glass  '  her,  flying  over  it; 
Never  the  black  and  dripping  precipices 
Echo  her  stormy  scream  as  she  sails  by — 
As  that  poor  bird  flies  home,  nor  knows  his  loss, 
So  Rustum  knew  not  his  own  loss,  but  stood 

575  Over  his  dying  son,  and  knew  him  not. 

But,  with  a  cold,  incredulous  voice,  he  said: 
"  What  prate  2  is  this  of  fathers  and  revenge? 
The  mighty  Rustum  never  had  a  son." 
And,  with  a  failing  voice,  Sohrab  replied: 

580  "  Ah  yes,  he  had!  and  that  lost  son  am  I. 
Surely  the  news  will  one  day  reach  his  ear, 
Reach  Rustum,  where  he  sits,  and  tarries  long, 
Somewhere,  I  know  not  where,  but  far  from  here; 
And  pierce  him  like  a  stab,  and  make  him  leap 

585  To  arms,  and  cry  for  vengeance  upon  thee. 
Fierce  man,  bethink  thee,  for  an  only  son! 
"What  will  that  grief,  what  will  that  vengeance  be  ? 
Oh,  could  I  live  till  I  that  grief  had  seen! 
Yet  him  I  pity  not  so  much,  but  her, 

590  My  mother,  who  in  Ader-baijan  dwells 

With  that  old  king,  her  father,  who  grows  gray 
With  age,  and  rules  over  the  valiant  Koords. 
Her  most  I  pity,  who  no  more  will  see 
Sohrab  returning  from  the  Tartar  camp, 

595  With  spoils  and  honor,  when  the  war  is  done. 
But  a  dark  rumor  will  be  bruited  up, 
From  tribe  to  tribe,  until  it  reach  her  ear; 
And  then  will  that  defenseless  woman  learn 
That  Sohrab  will  rejoice  her  sight  no  more, 

600  But  that  in  battle  with  a  nameless  foe, 
^/  By  the  far-distant  Oxus,  he  is  slain." 

He  spoke;  and  as  he  ceased,  he  wept  aloud, 

1  reflect.  3  foolish  talk. 


SOHRAB   AND    RUSTUM. 


103 


Thinking  of  her  he  left,  and  his  own  death. 
He  spoke;  but  Rustum  listened,  plunged  in  thought. 
605  Nor  did  he  yet  believe  it  was  his  son 

Who  spoke,  although  he  called  back  names  he  knew; 
For  he  had  had  sure  tidings  that  the  babe, 
Which  was  in  Ader-baijan  born  to  him, 
Had  beeu  a  puny  girl,  no  boy  at  all  '— 
610  So  that  sad  mother  sent  him  word,  for  fear 
Rustum  should  seek  the  boy,  to  train  in  arms. 
And  so  he  deemed  that  either  Sohrab  took, 
By  a  false  boast,  the  style2  of  Rustum's  son; 
Or  that  men  gave  it  him,  to  swell  his  fame. 
615  So  deemed  he:  yet  he  listened,  plunged  in  thought; 
And  his  soul  set  to  grief,  as  the  vast  tide  s  i  «• » 'e 

Of  the  bright  rocking  Ocean  sets  to  shore 
At  the  full  moon;  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes; 
For  he  remembered  his  ow"n  early  youth, 
620  And  all  its  bounding  rapture;  as,  atdawn,      ^i,ic  s«WU 
The  shepherd  from  his  mountain  lodge  descries 
A  far,  bright  city,  smitten  by  the  sun, 
Through  many  rolling  clouds— so  Rustum  saw 
His  youth;  saw  Sohrab's  mother,  in  her  bloom; 
625  And  that  old  king,  her  father,  who  loved  well  ^ 
His  wandering  guest,  and  gave  him  his  fair  child 
With  joy;  and  all  the  pleasant  life  they  led, 
They  three,  in  that  long-distant  summer  time— 
The  castle,  and  the  dewy  woods,  and  hunt 
630  And  hound,  and  morn  on  those  delightful  hills 
In  Ader-baijan.     And  he  saw  that  youth, 
Of  age  and  looks  to  be  his  own  dear  son, 
Piteous  and  lovely,  lying  on  the  sand, 
Like  some  rich  hyaciuthe  which  by  the  scythe       ^  %  ^  //£ 
635  Of  an  unskillful  gardener  has  been  cut,  -*f4*' 
Mowing  the  garden  grassplots  near  its  bed, 

i  See  Introduction,  p.  11.  2  title'  name- 


104  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

And  lies,  a  fragrant  tower  of  purple  bloom, 
On  the  mown,  dying  grass — so  Sohrab  lay, 
Lovely  in  death,  upon  the  common  sand. 

640  And  Kustum  gazed  on  him  with  grief,  and  said: 
"  0  Sohrab,  thou  indeed  art  such  a  son 
Whom  Rustum,  wert  thou  his,  might  well  have  loved! 
Yet  here  thou  errest,  Sohrab,  or  else  men 
Have  told  thee  false — thou  art  not  Rustum's  son. 

645  For  Rustum  had  no  son;  one  child  he  had — 
But  one — a  girl;  who  with  her  mother  now 
Plies  some  light  female  task,  nor  dreams  of  us — 
Of  us  she  dreams  not,  nor  of  wounds,  nor  war." 
But  Sohrab  answered  him  in  wrath;  for  now 

650  The  anguish  of  the  deep-fixed  spear  grew  fierce, 
And  he  desired  to  draw  forth  the  steel, 
And  let  the  blood  flow  free,  and  so  to  die — 
But  first  he  would  convince  his  stubborn  foe; 
And,  rising  sternly  on  one  arm,  he  said: 

655        "  Man,  who  art  thou  who  dost  deny  my  words? 
Truth  sits  upon  the  lips  of  dying  men, 
And  falsehood,  while  I  lived,  was  far  from  mine.1 
I  tell  thee,  pricked  upon  this  arm  I  bear 
The  seal  which  Rustum  to  my  mother  gave, 

660  That  she  might  prick  it  on  the  babe  she  bore." 

He  spoke;  and  all  the  blood  left  Rustum's  cheeks, 
And  his  knees  tottered,  and  he  smote  his  hand 
Against  his  breast,  his  heavy  mailed  hand, 
That  the  hard  iron  corselet  clanked  aloud; 

6G5  And  to  his  heart  he  pressed  the  other  hand, 
And  in  a  hollow  voice  he  spake,  and  said : 

"  Sohrab,  that  were  a  proof  which  could  not  lie! 
If  thou  show  this,  then  art  thou  Rustum's  son." 
Then,  with  weak  hasty  fingers,  Sohrab  loosed 

1  I   never  lied  when  living  ;   how  much  more  do  I  now  speak  the  truth  when  about 
to  ilie. 


SOHRAB   AND    RUSTUM.  105 

670  His  belt,  and  near  the  shoulder  bared  his  arm, 
And  showecl  a  sign  in  faint  vermilion  points 
Pricked;  as  a  cunning  workman,  in  Pekin,  «^>-  s  . 

Pricks  with  vermilion  some  clear  porcelain  vase, 
An  emperor's  gift — at  early  morn  he  paints, 

675  And  all  day  long,  and,  when  night  comes,  the  lamp 
Lights  up  his  studious  forehead  and  thin  hands — 
So  delicately  pricked  the  sign  appeared 
On  Sohrab's  arm,  the  sign  of  Rustum's  seal. 
It  was  that  griffin,1  which  of  old  reared  Zal, 

680  Kustum's  great  father,  whom  they  left  to  die, 
A  helpless  babe,  among  the  mountain  rocks; 
Him  that  kind  creature  found  and  reared,  and  loved — 
Then  Rustum  took  it  for  his  glorious  sign. 
And  Sohrab  bared  that  image  on  his  arm, 

685  And  himself  scanned  it  long  with  mournful  eyes, 
And  then  he  touched  it  witli  his  hand,  and  said: 

"  How  say'st  thou  ?     Is  that  sign  the  proper3  sign 
Of  Rustum's  son,  or  of  some  other  man's?  " 

He  spoke;  but  Rustum  gazed,  and  gazed,  and  stood 

690  Speechless;  and  then  he  uttered  one  sharp  cry: 

"  0  boy — thy  father!  " — and  his  voice  choked  there. 
And  then  a  dark  cloud  passed  before  his  eyes, 
And  his  head  swam,  and  he  sank  down  to  earth. 
But  Sohrab  crawled  to  where  he  lay,  and  cast 

695  His  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissed  his  lips, 

And  with  fond  faltering  fingers  stroked  his  cheeks, 
Trying  to  call  him  back  to  life;  and  life 
Came  back  to  Rustum,  and  he  oped  his  eyes, 
And  they  stood  wide  with  horror;  and  he  seized 

700  In  both  his  hands  the  dust  which  lay  around, 

And  threw  it  on  his  head,  and  smirched  his  hair, — 
His  hair,  and  face,  and  beard,  and  glittering  arms; 

1  See  1.  232  and  note  on  the  mysterious         2  The  word  originally  meant  thatparticu- 
youth  of  Zal.  larly  belonging  to  one. 


106  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

And  strong  convulsive  groanings  shook  liis  breast, 
And  his  sobs  choked  him;  and  he  clutched  his  sword, 

705  Tt)  draw  it,  and  forever  let  life  out.] 
■^rBxit  Sohrab  saw  his  thought,  and  held  his  hands, 
And  with  a  soothing  voice  he  .spake,  and  said : 

"Father,  forbear!  for  I  but  meet  to-day 
The  doom  which  at  my  birth  was  written  down 

710  In  heaven,  and  thou  art  heaven's  unconscious  hand. 
Surely  my  heart  cried  out  that  it  was  thou, 
When  first  I  saw  thee;  and  thy  heart  spoke  too, 
I  know  it!  but  fate  trod  those  promptings  down 
Under  its  iron  heel;  fate,  fate  engaged 

715  The  strife,  and  hurled  me  on  my  father's  spear. 
But  let  us  speak  no  more  of  this!     I  find 
My  father;  let  me  feel  that  I  have  found! 
Come,  sit  beside  me  on  this  sand,  and  take 
My  head  betwixt  thy  hands,  and  kiss  my  cheeks, 

720  And  wash  them  with  thy  tears,  and  say :  '  My  son !  ' 
Quick!  quick!  for  numbered  are  my  sands2  of  life 
And  swift;  for  like  the  lightning  to  this  field 
I  came,  and  like  the  wind  I  go  away — 
Sudden,  and  swift,  and  like  a  passing  wind. 

725  But  it  was  writ  in  heaven  that  this  should  be." 


'art 


So  said  he,  and  his  voice  released  the  he£ 
Of  Rustum,  and  his  tears  broke  forth;  he  cast 
ITis  arms  round  his  son's  neck,  and  wept  aloud, 
And  kissed  him.     And  awe  fell  on  both  the  hosts, 

730  When  they  saw  Rustum's  grief;  and  Ruksh,  the  horse, 
With  his  head  bowing  to  the  ground  and  mane 
Sweeping  the  dust,  came  near,  and  in  mute  woe 
First  to  the  one  then  to  the  other  moved 
His  head,  as  if  inquiring  what  their  grief 

735  Might  mean;  and  from  his  dark,  compassionate  eyes, 

1  He  would  have  killed  himself  when  he        a  The  figure  conies  perhaps  from  the  run- 
saw  what  he  had  done.  ning  out  of  the  hour-glass. 


SOHRAB   AND   BUSTUM  107 

The  big  warm  tears  rolled  down,  and  caked  the  sand. 

But  Rustum  chid  him  with  stern  voice,  and  said : 
"  Ruksh,  now  thou  grievest;  but,  0  Ruksh,  thy  feet 

Should  then  have  rotted  on  their  nimble  joints, 
740  When  first  they  brought  thy  master  to  this  field!  " 
But  Sohrab  looked  upon  the  horse,  and  said: 

"  Is  this,  then,  Ruksh  ?     How  often,  in  past  days, 

My  mother  told  me  of  thee,  thou  brave  steed, 

My  terrible  father's  terrible  horse!  and  said, 
745  That  I  should  one  day  find  thy  lord  and  thee. 

Come,  let  me  lay  my  hand  upon  thy  mane ! 

0  Ruksh,  thou  art  more  fortunate  than  I; 

For  thou  hast  gone  where  I  shall  never  go, 

And  snuffed  the  breezes  of  my  father's  home. 
750  And  thou  hast  trod  the  sands  of  Seistau, 

And  seen  the  River  of  Hehnund,  and  the  Lake1 

Of  Zirrah;  and  the  aged  Zal  himself 

Has  often  stroked  thy  neck,  and  given  thee  food, 

Corn  in  a  golden  platter  soaked  with  wine, 
755  And  said:  '  0  Ruksh!  bear  Rustum  well,' — but  I 

Have  never  known  my  grandsire's  furrowed  face, 

Nor  seen  his  lofty  house  in  Seistan, 

Nor  slaked  my  thirst  at  the  clear  Helmund  stream; 

But  lodged  among  my  father's  foes,  and  seen 
760  Afrasiab's  cities  only,  Samarcand, 

Bokhara,  and  lone  Khiva  in  the  waste, 

And  the  black  Toorkmun  tents;  and  only  drunk 

The  desert  rivers,  Moorghab  and  Tejend, 

Kohik,  and  where  the  Kalmuks  feed  their  sheep, 
765  The  northern  Sir;2  and  this  great  Oyhr  st.rp.amr        v 

The  yellowjOxus,  by  whose  brink  I^die^' 

Then,  with  a  heavy  groan,  Rustum  bewailed: 

1  The  places  here  mentioned  are  mostly  in  2  the  Jaxartes,  or,  as  now  called,  the  Syr- 
Afghanistan  and  Turkestan,  and  are  sufli-  Daria,  which  runs  into  the  Aral  Sea,  to  the 
ciently  explained  in  the  poem.  north  of  the  Oxus. 


108  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

"  Oh,  that  its  waves  were  flowing  over  me! 

Oh,  that  I  saw  its  grains  of  yellow  silt' 
770  Roll  tumbling  in  the  current  o'er  my  head!  " 

But,  with  a  grave  mild  voice,  Sohrab  replied : 

"  Desire  not  that,  my  father!  thou  must  live." 

For  some  are  born  to  do  great  deeds,  and  live, 
\As  some  are  born  to  be  obscured,  and  die. 
775  Do  thou  the  deeds  I  die  too  young  to  do, 

And  reap  a  second  glory  in  thine  age; 

Thou  art  my  father,  and  thy  gain  is  mine. 

But  come!  thou  seest  this  great  host  of  men 

Which  follow  me;  I  pray  thee,  slay  not  these! 
780  Let  me  entreat  for  them;  what  have  they  done  ? 

They  followed  me,  my  hope,  my  fame,  my  star. 

Let  them  all  cross  the  Oxusjjack  in  peace. 

But  me  thou~must  bear  hence,  not  send  with  them, 

But  carry  me  with  thee  to  Seistan, 
785  And  place  me  on  a  bed,  and  mourn  for  me, 

Thou,  and  the  snow-haired  Zal,  and  all  thy  friends. 

And  thou  must  lay  me  in  that  lovely  earth, 

And  heap   a  stately  mound  above  my  bones, 

And  plant  a  far-seen  pillar  over  all. 
790  That  so  the  passing  horseman  on  the  waste 

May  see  my  tomb  a  great  way  off,  and  cry: 

'  Sohrab,  the  mighty  Rustum's  son,  lies  there, 

Whom  his  great  father  did  in  ignorance  kill! ' 

And  I  be  not  forgotten  in  my  grave." 
795       And,  with  a  mournful  voice,  Rustum  replied: 

"  Fear  not!  as  thou  hast  said,  Sohrab,  my  son, 

So  shall  it  be;  for  I  will  burn  my  tents, 

And  quit  the  host,  and  bear  thee  hence  with  me, 

And  carry  thee  away  to  Seistan, 
800  And  place  thee  on  a  bed,  and  mourn  for  thee, 

1  soil  carried  along  by  the  river.  and  dignity  coming  from  approaching  death, 

a  Here  the  young  man,  with  a  seriousness     gently  restrains  his  father's  passion. 


SOHRAB   AND   RUSTUM  109 

With  the  snow-headed  Zal,  and  all  my  friends. 
And  I  will  lay  thee  in  that  lovely  earth, 
And  heap  a  stately  mound  above  thy  bones, 
And  plant  a  far-seen  pillar  over  all, 

805  And  men  shall  not  forget  thee  in  thy  grave. 
And  I  will  spare  thy  host;  yea,  let  them  go! 
Let  them  all  cross  the  Oxus  back  in  peace! 
What  should  I  do  with  slaying  any  more  ? 
For  would  that  all  that  I  have  ever  slain 

810  Might  be  once  more  alive;  my  bitterest  foes, 

And  they  who  were  called  champions  in  their  time, 
And  through  whose  death  I  won  that  fame  I  have — 
And  I  were  nothing  but  a  common  man, 
A  poor,  mean  soldier,  and  without  renown, 

815  So  thou  mightest  live  too,  my  son,  my  son! 
Or  rather  would  that  I,  even  I  myself, 
Might  now  be  lying  on  this  bloody  sand, 
Near  death,  and  by  an  ignorant  stroke  of  thine, 
Not  thou  of  mine!  and  I  might  die,  not  thou; 

820  And  I,  not  thou,  be  borne  to  Seistan; 

And  Zal  might  weep  above  my  grave,  not  thine; 
And  say :  '  0  son,  I  weep  thee  not  too  sore, 
For  willingly,  I  know,  thou  met'st  thine  end! ' 
But  now  in  blood  and  battles  was  my  youth, 

825  And  full  of  blood  and  battles  is  my  age, 
And  I  shall  never  end  this  life  of  blood." 

Then,  at  the  point  of  death,  Sohrab  replied: 
"  A  life  of  blood  indeed,  thou  dreadful '  man! 
But  thou  shalt  yet  have  peace;  only  not  now, 

830  Not  yet!  but  thou  shalt  have  it  on  that  day 
When  thou  shalt  sail  in  a  high-masted  ship, 
Thou  and  the  other  peers  of  Kai  Khosroo, 
Returning  home  over  the  salt  blue  sea, 
From  laying  thy  dear  master  in  his  grave." 

1  awe-inspiring. 


110  POEMS    OF    KNIGHTLY    ADVENTURE. 

835       And  Rustum  gazed  in  Soli  rub's  face,  and  said: 
"  Soon  be  that  day,  my  son,  and  deep  that  sea! 
Till  then,  if  fate  so  wills,  let  me  endure." 

He  spoke;  and  Sohrab  smiled  on  him,  and  took 
The  spear,  and  drew  it  from  his  side,  and  eased 

840  His  wound's  imperious  anguish;  but  the  blood 
Came  welling1  from  the  open  gash,  and  life 
Flowed  with  the  stream; — all  down  his  cold  white  side 
The  crimson  torrent  ran,  dim  now  and  soiled, 
Like  the  soiled  tissue  of  white  violets 

845  Left,  freshly  gathered,  on  their  native  bank, 
By  children  whom  their  nurses  call  with  haste 
Indoors  from  the  sun's  eye;  his  head  drooped  low, 
His  limbs  grew  slack;  motionless,  white,  he  lay — 
White,  with  eyes  closed;  only  Avhen  heavy  gasps, 

850  Deep  heavy  gasps  quivering  through  all  his  frame, 
Convulsed  him  back  to  life,  he  opened  them, 
And  fixed  them  feebly  on  his  father's  face; 
Till  now  all  strength  was  ebbed,  and  from  his  limbs 
Unwillingly  the  spirit,  fled  away, 

855  Regretting  the  warm  mansion a  which  it  left, 

And  youth,  and  bloom,  and  this  delightful  world. 

So,  on  the  bloody  sand,  Sohrab  lay  dead; 
And  the  great  Rustum  drew  his  horseman's  cloak 
Down  o'er  his  face,  and  sate  by  his  dead  son. 

860  As  those  black  granite  pillars,  once  high-reared 
By  Jemshid 3  in  Persepolis,  to  bear 
His  house,  now  'mid  their  broken  flights  of  steps 
Lie  prone,  enormous,  down  the  mountain  side — 
So  in  the  sand  lay  Rustum  by  his  son. 

865      And  night  came  down  over  the  solemn  waste, 
And  the  two  gazing  hosts,  and  that  sole  pair, 
And  darkened  all;  and  a  cold  fog,  with  night, 

1  Blow  gushing.  3  Jemshid,  a  legendary  king  of   Persia, 

2  abiding-place.  who  did  great  building  in  old  Persepolis. 


K  y¥ 


SOHRAB    AND    RUSTUM.  HI 

Drppf,  from  the  Osus.     Soon  a  hum  arose, 
As  of  a  great  assembly  loosed,  and  fires 
870  Began  to  twinkle  through  the  fog;  for  now  '»' 

Both  armies  moved  to  camp,  and  took  their  meal; ' 
The  Persians  took  it  on  the  open  sands  j 

Southward,  the  Tartars  by  the  river  marge; 
And  Rustum  and  his  son  were  left  alone. 

875       But  the  majestic  river  floated  on," 

Out  of  the  mist  and  hum  o!  that  low  land, 

Into  the  frosty  starlight,  and  tlie^mioved, 

Rejoicing,  through  the  hushed  Cliorasmian  waste, 

Under  the  solitary  moon; — he  flowed 
880  Right  for  the  polar  star,  past  Orgunje, 

Brimming,  and  bright,  and  large;  then  sands  begin 

To  hem  his  watery  march,  and  dam  his  streams, 

And  split  his  currents;  that  for  many  a  league 

The  shorn  and  parceled  Oxus  strains_along 
885  Through  beds  of  sand  and  matted  rushy  isles — 

Oaus,  forgetting  the  bright  speed  hejiad 

In  his  high  mountain  cradle  in  Pamere, 

A  foiled  circuitous  wanderer — till  at  last 

The  longed-for  dash  of  waves  is  heard,  and  wide 
890  His  luminous  home  of  waters  opens,  bright 

And  tranquil,  from  whose  floor  the  new-bathed  stars 

Emerge,  and  shine  upon  the  Aral  Sea. 

i  Everybody  else  went  about  his    ordi-  tragedy  of  the  poem,  the  mind  needs  some 

nary  affairs.  assurance  of  peace.    This  mood  is  felt  and 

2  These  last  few  lines  are  very  beautiful,  answered  in  these  lines,  which  end  with  such 

After   the   struggling   battle   and   human  tranquil  calmness. 


HOKATIUS. 

A    LAY   MADE    ABOUT   THE    YEAR    OF   THE   CITY   CCCLX. 

I. 

Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium1 

By  the  Nine  Gods a  he  swore 
That  the  great  house  of  Tarquin1 

Should  suffer  wrong  no  more. 
5  By  the  Nine  Gods5  he  swore  it, 

And  named  a  trysting  day,3 
And  bade  his  messengers  ride  forth, 
East  and  west  and  south  aud  north, 

To  summon  his  array. 


ii. 

10  East  and  west  and  south  and  north 
The  messengers  ride  fast, 
And  tower  and  town  and  cottage 

Have  heard  the  trumpet's  blast. 
Shame  on  the  false  Etruscan 
15       Who  lingers  in  his  home, 
When  Porsena  of  Clusium 
Is  on  the  march  for  Home! 

1  Lars  Porsena  (Lars  was  an  Etruscan  title  belonged  to  the  twelve  cities.    The  other 

meaning  King)  was  ruler  of  the  town  of  cities  mentioned,  as  Populonia  (1.  30),  were 

Clusium,  the  head  of  the  Etruscan  confed-  not  members  of  the  confederacy,  but  joined 

eracy  of  twelve  cities  (cf.  1.  177).    To  him  in  the  expedition.    We  shall  not,  as  a  rule, 

Tarquinius  Supcrbus  (or  the  Proud),   the  be  particular  as  to  their  situation.    They  are 

last  king  of  Koine,  cast  out  by  the  Romans,  all  cities  of  Etruria,  and  may  be  found  in 

applied  for  aid.    Lars  Porsena  engaged  in  a  classical  atlas.      The  modern  names,  of 

war  on  his  behalf,  aided  by  several  of  the  course,  are  different. 

cities  of  the  confederacy.      Of   the  cities  '  Not  much  was  known  of  the  Nine  Gods 

mentioned  later,  Volatemc  (1.  20),  Cortona  of  the  Etruscan  religion. 

(1.  40),  Falerii  (1.  319),  and  Arretium  (1-  58)  3  day  for  meeting. 


HORATIUS.  118 

III. 

The  horsemen  and  the  footmen 
Are  pouring  in  amain ' 
20  From  many  a  stately  market-place; 
From  many  a  fruitful  plain; 
From  many  a  lonely  hamlet,2 

Which,  hid  by  beach  and  pine, 
Like  an  eagle's  nest,  hangs  on  the  crest 
25       Of  purple  Apennine; 

IV. 

From  lordly  Volaterra?,3 

Where  scowls  the  far-famed  hold 
Piled  by  the  hands  of  giants 

For  godlike  kings  of  old; 
30  From  seagirt  Populonia,3 

Whose  sentinels  descry 
Sardinia's  snowy  mountain-tops 

Fringing  the  southern  sky; 


From  the  proud  mart  of  Pisae.4 
35       Queen  of  the  western  waves. 
Where  ride  Massilia's b  triremes 8 
Heavy  with  fair-haired  slaves; ' 
From  where  sweet  Clanis 8  wanders 
Through  corn  and  vines  and  flowers; 
40  From  where  Cortona  lifts  to  heaven 
Her  diadem  of  towers. 

1  with  vigorous  hurry.  8  ships  with  three  banks  of  oars. 

2  a  small  village.  *  The  Gauls,  as  later  the  Britons,  were 

3  See  note  on  1.  1.  fair-haired;    the  Italians  were,  as  a  rule, 
*  Pisa?,  on  the  site  of  modern  Pisa,  on  dark. 

the  Arnus,  near  its  mouth.  8  Clanis,  a  river  in  the  territory  of  Clu- 

6  now  Marseilles.  sium. 

8 


114  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

VI. 

Tall  are  the  oaks  whose  acorns 
Drop  in  dark  Auser's  '  rill; 

Fat  are  the  stags  that  champ  the  boughs 
45       Of  the  Ciminian  hill; 

Beyond  all  streams  Clitumnus 
Is  to  the  herdsman  dear; 

Best  of  all  pools  the  fowler  loves 
The  great  Volsiniau  mere.3 


VII. 

50  But  now  no  stroke  of  woodman 
Is  heard  by  Auser's  rill; 
No  hunter  tracks  the  stag's  green  path 

Up  the  Ciminian  hill; 
Unwatched  along  Clitumnus 
55       Grazes  the  milk-white  steer; 
Unharmed  the  water  fowl  may  dip 
In  the  Volsinian  mere. 

VIII. 

The  harvests  of  Arretium,' 
This  year,  old  men  shall  reap, 
60  This  year,  young  boys  in  Umbro 

Shall  plunge  the  struggling  sheep; 
And  in  the  vats 4  of  Luna, 

This  year,  the  must &  shall  foam 
Round  the  white  feet  of  laughing  girls 
65       "Whose  sires  have  marched  to  Rome. 

.  Anser  and  Clitumnus   were   rivers   of  •  the   wine-vats    into  which  the  grape, 

.  were  thrown  to  be  trampled  on.    Luna  was 

Etruna.  ,  .     .. 

t  a  lake  near  Volsinii,  one  of  the  twelve  noted  for  its  wine. 

citie8                              ■  See  note  on  1.1.  » the  new  wine. 


HORATIUS.  115 


IX. 


There  be  thirty  chosen  prophets, 

The  wisest  of  the  land, 
Who  alway  by  Lars  Porsena 

Both  morn  and  evening  stand : 
70  Evening  and  morn  the  Thirty 

Have  turned  the  verses  o'er, 
Traced  from  the  right '  on  linen  white 

By  mighty  seers  of  yore. 


And  with  one  voice  the  Thirty 
75      Have  their  glad  answer  given : 
"  Go  forth,  go  forth,  Lars  Porsena; 

Go  forth,  beloved  of  Heaven; 
Go,  and  return  in  glory 
To  Clusium's  royal  dome; 
80  And  hang  round  Nurscia's  altars* 
The  golden  shields  of  Eome." 

/  XI. 

And  now  hath  every  city 

Sent  up  her  tale 3  of  men; 
The  foot  are  fourscore  thousand, 
85       The  horse  are  thousands  ten: 
Before  the  gates  of  Sutrium4 

Is  met  the  great  array. 
A  proud  man  was  Lars  Porsena 

Upon  the  trysting  day. 

1  The  Etruscan  writing  ran  from  right  to  '  required  number, 

left.  4  a  town  in  southern  Etruria,  convenient 

*  Nurscia,  the  Etruscan  goddess  of  for-  as  a  starting  point  for  Rome,  about  thirty 

tune.  miles  away. 


116  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XII. 

90  For  all  the  Etruscan  armies 

Were  ranged  beneath  his  eye, 
And  many  a  banished  Roman,1 

And  many  a  stout  ally; 
And  with  a  mighty  following 
95       To  join  the  muster  came 
The  Tusculan  Mamilius,4 
Prince  of  the  Latian  name. 

XIII. 

But  by  the  yellow  3  Tiber 
Was  tumult  and  affright: 
100  From  all  the  spacious  champaign  * 
To  Eonie  men  took  their  flight. 
A  mile  around  the  city, 

The  throng  stopped  up  the  ways; 
A  fearful  sight  it  was  to  see 
105       Through  two  long  nights  and  days. 

XIV. 

For  aged  folks  on  crutches, 

And  women  great  with  child, 
And  mothers  sobbing  over  babes 

That  clung  to  them  and  smiled, 
110  And  sick  men  borne  in  litters6 

High  on  the  necks  of  slaves, 
And  troops  of  sun-burned  husbandmen 

With  reaping-hooks  and  staves,' 

1  Romans  who  had  followed  their  ban-  *  the  open    country    about    Rome,  now 

ished  king.  called  the  Campagna. 

a  Tusculum,  a  powerful   city  of  Latiuin.  6  Litters,  and  not  carriages,  were  long  the 

Dot  far  from  Rome.    Mamilius  was  the  hus-  common  way  of  getting  about  for  such  as 

bund  of  Tarquin's  daughter.  would  not  ride  or  walk. 

*  •'  Yellow  "  is  a  common  epithet  for  the  e  For  the  descriptive  power  of  this  Btanza 

swiftly  running  Tiber  :  see  1.  470.  and  the  following,  see  p.  18. 


HORATIUS.  117 


XV. 


And  droves  of  mules  and  asses 
115       Laden  with  skins  '  of  wine, 

And  endless  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep, 

And  endless  herds  of  kine, 
And  endless  trains  of  wagons 
That  creaked  beneath  the  weight 
120  Of  corn-sacks  and  of  household  goods, 
Choked  every  roaring  gate. 

XVI. 

Now,  from  the  rock  Tarpeian,* 

Could  the  wan 3  burghers 4  spy 
The  line  of  blazing  villages 
125       Eed  in  the  midnight  sky. 
The  Fathers 5  of  the  City/ 

They  sat  all  night  and  day, 
For  every  hour  some  horseman  came 

With  tidings  of  dismay. 

XVII. 

130  To  eastward  and  to  westward 

Have  spread  the  Tuscan  bands; 
Nor  house,  nor  fence,  nor  dovecote 

In  Crustumerium  6  stands. 
Verbenna 7  down  to  Ostia 8 
135       Hath  wasted  all  the  plain ; 

Astur9  hath  stormed  Janiculum,10 
And  the  stout  guards  are  slain. 

1  Skins  were  the  ancient  bottles  and  hogs-     Patres  Conscripti,  or  Conscript  Fathers, 
heads.  «  a  city  of  Latium,  not  far  from  Rome. 

2  The  Tarpeian  rock  on  the  Capitoline  7  See  1.  191. 

Hill.  s  the  port  of  Rome. 

*  pale  from  fatigue.  »  See  1.  350. 

*  citizens.  io  a  suburb  of  Rome,  on  the  other  side  of 
6  The  members  of  the  Senate  were  called  the  Tiber. 


118  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XVIII. 

I  wis,1  in  all  the  Senate, 
There  was  no  heart  so  bold, 
140  But  sore  it  ached  and  fast  it  beat, 
When  that  ill  news  was  told. 
Forthwith  up  rose  the  Consul/ 

Up  rose  the  Fathers  all; 
In  haste  they  girded  up  their  gowns/ 
145       And  hied  *  them  to  the  wall. 

XIX. 

They  held  a  council  standing 

Before  the  River-Gate; 
Short  time  was  there,  ye  well  may  guess, 

For  musing  or  debate. 
150  Out  spake  the  Consul  roundly: 6 

"  The  bridge  must  straight  go  down; 
For,  since  Janiculum  is  lost, 

Nought  else  can  save  the  town." 

xx. 

Just  then  a  scout  came  flying, 
155       All  wild  with  haste  and  fear; 
"  To  arms!  to  arms!  Sir  Consul: 

Lars  Porsena  is  here!  " 
On  the  low  hills  to  westward 
The  Consul  fixed  his  eye, 
100  And  saw  the  swarthy  storm  of  dust 
Rise  fast  along  the  sky. 

1  The  form  should  be  Twis :   the  word  3  The  Roman  toga  was  a  loose,  flowing 

means  "assuredly."    Macaulay  uses  it  as  garment,  which  had  to  be  girt  up  or  laid 

though  the  /were  the  personal  pronoun.  aside  for  any  rapid  work. 

8  Two  Consuls  were  tin-  chief  executive  '  hastened. 

officers  of  the  Roman  republic.  6  plainly,  without  mincing  matters. 


HOKATIUS.  119 

XXI. 

And  nearer  fast  and  nearer 

Doth  the  red  whirlwind  come; 
And  louder  still  and  still  more  loud, 
165  From  underneath  that  rolling  clond, 
Is  heard  the  trumpet's  war-note  proud, 

The  trampling,  and  the  hum. 
And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  through  the  gloom  appears, 
170  Far  to  left  and  far  to  right, 

In  broken  gleams  of  dark-blue  light, 
The  long  array  of  helmets  bright, 

The  long  array  of  spears. 

XXII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly, 
175       Above  that  glimmering  line, 
Now  might  ve  see  the  banners 
Of  twelve  fair  cities  shine; ' 
But  the  banner  of  proud  Clusium 
Was  highest  of  them  all, 
180  The  terror  of  the  Umbrian, 
The  terror  of  the  Gaul. 

XXIII. 

And  plainly  and  more  plainly 

Now  might  the  burghers  know, 
By  port  and  vest,2  by  horse  and  crest, 
185       Each  warlike  Lucumo.3 
There  Cilnius  of  Arretium 

On  his  fleet  roan  was  seen; 
And  Astur  of  the  four-fold  shield, 
Girt  with  the  brand  none  else  may  wield, 

1  See  note  to  1.  1.  3  The  chief  of  an  Etruscan  city  was  60 

2  by  their  bearing  and  garments.  called  by  the  Romans. 


120  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

190  Tolumnius  with  the  belt  of  gold, 
And  dark  Verbenna  from  the  hold 
By  reedy  Thrasymeue.1 

XXIV. 

Fast  by  the  royal  standard, 
O'erlooking  all  the  war, 
195  Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium 
Sat  in  his  ivory  car. 
By  the  right  wheel  rode  Mamilins, 

Prince  of  the  Latian  name; 
And  by  the  left  false  Sextus,2 
200       That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame. 

XXV. 

But  when  the  face  of  Sextus 

Was  seen  among  the  foes, 
A  yell  that  rent  the  firmament 

From  all  the  town  arose. 
205  On  the  house-tops  was  no  woman 

But  spat  towards  him  and  hissed, 
No  child  but  screamed  out  curses, 

And  shook  its  little  fist. 

XXVI. 

But  the  Consul's  brow  was  sad, 
210       And  the  Consul's  speech  was  low, 
And  darkly  looked  he  at  the  wall, 

And  darkly  at  the  foe. 
"  Their  van  will  be  upon  us 
Before  the  bridge  goes  down; 
215  And  if  they  once  may  win  the  bridge, 
What  hope  to  save  the  town  ?  " 

1  the  largest  lake  iD  Etruria  ;  it  was  com-        2  Sextos  Tarqniniue,  the  nephew  of  the 
paratively  shallow.  king. 


HORATIUS.  121 


XXYIT. 

Then  out  spake  brave  Horatius, 
The  Captain  of  the  Gate: 

"  To  every  man  upon  this  earth 
220       Death  cometh  soon  or  late. 

And  how  can  man  die  better 
Than  facing  fearful  odds.. 

For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers, 
And  the  temjiles  of  his  gods, 


XXVIII. 

225  "  And  for  the  tender  mother 
AVho  dandled  him  to  rest, 
And  for  the  wife  who  nurses 

His  baby  at  her  breast, 
And  for  the  holy  maidens 
230       Who  feed  the  eternal  flame,1 
To  save  them  from  false  Sextus 
That  wrought  the  deed  of  shame  ? 


XXIX. 

"  Hew  down  the  bridge,  Sir  Consul, 
With  all  the  speed  ye  may; 
235  I,  with  two  more  to  help  me, 
Will  hold  the  foe  in  play.2 
In  yon  strait3  path  a  thousand 

May  well  be  stopped  by  three. 
Now  who  will  stand  on  either  hand, 
240      And  keep  the  bridge  with  me?" 

1  the  virgin  priestesses  in  the  temple  of  »  will  keep  them  occupied. 

Vesta,  where  the  fire  burned  forever.  s  narrow. 


122  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XXX. 

Then  out  spake  Spurius  Lartins; 

A  Ramnian  '  proud  was  he: 
"  Lo,  I  will  stand  at  thy  right  hand, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 
245  And  out  spake  strong  Herminius; 

Of  Titian  '  blood  was  he : 
"  I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side, 

And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee." 

XXXI. 

"Horatius,"  quoth  the  Consul, 
250       "  As  thou  sayest,  so  let  it  be." 

And  straight  against  that  great  array 

Forth  went  the  dauntless  Three. 
For  Romans  in  Rome's  quarrel 
Spared  neither  land  nor  gold, 
255  Nor  son  nor  wife,  nor  limb  nor  life, 
In  the  brave  davs  of  old. 

XXXII. 

Then  none  was  for  a  party;  * 

Then  all  were  for  the  state; 
Then  the  great  man  helped  the  poor, 
260       And  the  poor  man  loved  the  great : 
Then  lands  were  fairly  portioned; 

Then  spoils  were  fairly  sold : 
The  Romans  were  like  brothers 

In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

1  The  Roman  nobles  were  divided  into  Romans  in  later  times.  The  singer  was  a 
three  tribes— the  Ramnes,  the  Tities,  the  plebeian,  and  wrote  in  times  of  public  dis- 
I.nreres.  cord.    This  stanza  and  the  next  give  us  his 

2  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  poem  own  thoughts  on  his  own  times,  when  the 
Is  supposed  to  be  a  ballad  sung  by  the  ancient  harmony  was  much  broken. 


HORATIUS.  123 


XXXIII. 


265  Now  Roman  is  to  Roman 
More  hateful  than  a  foe; 
And  the  Tribunes '  beard  the  high, 
And  the  Fathers 2  grind  the  low. 
As  we  wax  hot  in  faction, 
270       In  battle  we  wax  cold  :' 

Wherefore  men  fight  not  as  they  fought 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

xxxiv. 

Now  while  the  Three  were  tightening 
Their  harness 3  on  their  backs, 
275  The  Consul  was  the  foremost  man 
To  take  in  hand  an  axe: 
And  Fathers  mixed  with  Commons 

Seized  hatchet,  bar,  and  crow, 
And  smote  upon  the  planks  above, 
280       And  loosed  the  props  below. 

XXXV. 

Meanwhile  the  Tuscan  army, 

Right  glorious  to  behold, 
Came  flashing  back  the  noonday  light, 
Rank  behind  rank,  like  surges  bright 
285       Of  a  broad  sea  of  gold. 

Four  hundred  trumpets  sounded 

A  peal  of  warlike  glee, 
As  that  great  host,  with  measured  tread, 
And  spears  advanced,  and  ensigns  spread, 
290  Rolled  slowly  towards  the  bridge's  head, 
Where  stood  the  dauntless  Three. 

1  The  Tribunes  of  the  People  were  officers         a  The  Senators  or  Patricians, 
chosen  to  assure  the  plebeians  their  rights.         *  armor. 


12-i  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XXXVI. 

The  Three  stood  calm  and  silent, 

And  looked  upon  the  foes, 
And  a  great  shout  of  laughter 
295       From  all  the  vanguard  rose : 

And  forth  three  chiefs  came  spurring 

Before  that  deep  array; 
To  earth  they  sprang,  their  swords  they  drew, 
And  lifted  high  their  shields,  and  flew 
300       To  win  the  narrow  way; 

XXXVII. 

Aunus  from  green  Tifernum, 

Lord  of  the  Hill  of  Vines; 
And  Seius,  whose  eight  hundred  slaves 

Sicken  in  Ilva's  '  mines; 
305  And  Picus,  long  to  Clusium 

Vassal  in  peace  and  war, 
Who  led  to  fight  his  Umbrian  powers 
From  that  gray  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 
The  fortress  of  Nequinum  lowers 
310       O'er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar." 

XXXVIII. 

Stout  Lartius  hurled  down  Aunus 

Into  the  stream  beneath : 
Herminius  struck  at  Seius, 

And  clove  him  to  the  teeth: 
315  At  Picus  brave  Horatius 

Darted  one  fiery  thrust; 
And  the  proud  Umbrian 's  gilded  arms 

Clashed  in  the  bloody  dust. 

1  the  island  of  Elba.  the  sulphuretted  character  of  its  waters, 

*  a  tributary  of  the  Tiber,  noteworthy  for     which  were  whitish  in  color. 


HORATIUS.  125 

XXXIX. 

Then  Ocnus  of  Falerii l 
320       Rushed  on  the  Roman  Three; 
And  Lausulus  of  Urgo, 

The  rover  of  the  sea; 
And  Aruns  of  Volsinium,1 

Who  slew  the  great  wild  boar, 
325  The  great  wild  boar  that  had  his  den 
Amidst  the  reeds  of  Cosa's  fen, 
And  wasted  fields,  and  slaughtered  men, 

Along  Albinia's  shore. 

XL. 

Herminius  smote  clown  Aruns: 
330       Lartius  laid  Ocnus  low : 

Right  to  the  heart  of  Lausulus 

Horatius  sent  a  blow. 
"  Lie  there,"  he  cried,  "  fell  pirate! 

No  more,  aghast  and  pale, 
335  From  Ostia's 2  walls  the  crowd  shall  mark 
The  track  of  thy  destroying  bark. 
No  more  Campania's 3  hinds  shall  fly 
To  woods  and  caverns  when  they  spy 

Thy  thrice-accursed  sail." 

XLI. 

340  But  now  no  sound  of  laughter 
Was  heard  among  the  foes. 
A  wild  and  wrathful  clamor 

From  all  the  vanguard  rose. 
Six  spears'  lengths  from  the  entrance 
345       Halted  that  deep  array, 

And  for  a  space  no  man  came  forth 
To  win  the  narrow  way. 

•Falerii  and  Volsinii  were  two  of  the         2  See  note  on  1.  134. 
twelve  cities.  3  a  province  of  Italy,  to  the  south  of  Rome. 


126  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XLII. 

But  hark !  the  cry  is  Astur : 
And  lo!  the  ranks  divide; 
350  And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 

Comes  with  his  stately  stride. 
Upon  his  ample  shoulders 

Clangs  loud  the  fourfold  shield, 
And  in  his  hand  he  shakes  the  brand 
355       Which  none  but  he  cau  wield. 

XLIII. 

He  smiled  on  those  bold  Romans 

A  smile  serene  and  high; 
He  eyed  the  flinching  Tuscans, 

And  scorn  was  in  his  eye. 
360  Quoth  he,  "  The  she-wolf's  litter1 

Stand  savagely  at  bay : 
But  will  ye  dare  to  follow, 

If  Astur  clears  the  way  ?  " 

XLIV. 

Then,  whirling  up  his  broadsword 
365       With  both  hands  to  the  height, 
He  rushed  against  Horatius, 

And  smote  with  all  his  might. 
With  shield  and  blade  Horatius 

Right  deftly2  turned  the  blow. 
370  The  blow,  though  turned,  came  yet  too  nigh; 
It  missed  his  helm,  but  gashed  his  thigh : 
The  Tuscans  raised  a  joyful  cry 

To  see  the  red  blood  flow. 

'  Romulus  and  Remus,  the  founders  of     ing  to  the  legend,  and  suckled  hy  a  she- 
Rome,  had  been  exposed  at  birth,  accord-     wolf.  ■  cleverly  and  neatly. 


HORATIUS.  127 


XLV 


He  reeled,  arid  on  Herminius 
375       He  leaned  one  breathing-space; 

Then,  like  a  wild-cat  mad  with  wounds, 

Sprang  right  at  Astur's  face. 
Through  teeth,  and  skull,  and  helmet 
So  fierce  a  thrust  he  sped, 
380  The  good  sword  stood  a  hand-breadth  out 
Behind  the  Tuscan's  head. 


XLVI. 

And  the  great  Lord  of  Luna 
Fell  at  that  deadly  stroke, 

As  falls  on  Mount  Alvernus  ' 
385       A  thunder-smitten  oak. 

Far  o'er  the  crashing  forest 
The  giant  arms  lie  spread; 

And  the  pale  augurs,3  muttering  low, 
Gaze  on  the  blasted  head. 


XLVII. 

390  On  Astur's  throat  Horatius 

Right  firmly  pressed  his  heel, 
And  thrice  and  four  times  tugged  amain, 

Ere  he  wrenched  out  the  steel. 
"And  see,"  he  cried,  "  the  welcome, 
395       Fair  guests,  that  waits  you  here ! 
What  noble  Lucumo  comes  next 
To  taste  our  Roman  cheer  ?  "  3 

the  watershed  in  which  the  Tiber  rises.  a  priests  who  divined  the  future. 

3  good  fare. 


128  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

XLVIII. 

But  at  his  haughty  challenge 
A  sullen  murmur  ran, 
400  Mingled  of  wrath,  and  shame,  and  dread. 
Along  that  glittering  van.1 
There  lacked  not  men  of  prowess, 

Nor  men  of  lordly  race; 
For  all  Etruria's  noblest 
405       Were  round  the  fatal  place. 

XLIX. 

But  all  Etruria's  noblest 

Felt  their  hearts  sink  to  see 
On  the  earth  the  bloody  corpses, 

In  the  path  the  dauntless  Three: 
410  And,  from  the  ghastly  entrance 

Where  those  bold  Eomans  stood, 
All  shrank,  like  boys  who  unaware, 
Banging  the  woods  to  start  a  hare, 
Come  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark  lair 
415  Where,  growling  low,  a  fierce  old  bear 

Lies  amidst  bones  and  blood. 

L. 

Was  none  who  would  be  foremost 

To  lead  such  dire  attack : 
But  those  behind  cried  "  Forward ! ' 
420      And  those  before  cried  "  Back!  " 
And  backward  now  and  forward 

Wavers  the  deep  array ; 
And  on  the  tossing  sea  of  steel, 
To  and  fro  the  standards  reel; 
425  And  the  victorious  trumpet-peal 
Dies  fitfully  away. 

'  the  advance  guard  of  the  army. 


HORATIUS. 


LI. 


Yet  one  man  for  one  moment 
Stood  out  before  the  crowd; 

Well  known  was  he  to  all  the  Three, 
430       And  they  gave  him  greeting  loud, 

"Now  welcome,  welcome,  Sextus! 
Now  welcome  to  thy  home ! 

Why  dost  thou  stay,  and  turn  away  ? 
Here  lies  the  road  to  Rome." 

LII. 

435  Thrice  looked  he  at  the  city; 

Thrice  looked  he  at  the  dead; 
And  thrice  came  on  in  fury, 

And  thrice  turned  back  in  dread : 
And,  white  with  fear  and  hatred, 
440       Scowled  at  the  narrow  way 

Where,  wallowing  in  a  pool  of  blood, 
The  bravest  Tuscans  lay. 

LIII. 

But  meanwhile  axe  and  lever 
Have  manfully  been  plied ; 
445  And  now  the  bridge  hangs  tottering 
Above  the  boiling  tide. 
"  Come  back,  come  back,  Horatius!  " 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all. 
"Back,  Lartius!  back,  Herminius! 
450       Back,  ere  the  ruin  fall!  " 

LIV. 

Back  darted  Spurius  Lartius; 

Herminius  darted  back: 
And,  as  they  passed,  beneath  their  feet 

They  felt  the  timbers  crack. 
9 


130  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

455  But  when  they  turned  their  faces, 
And  on  the  farther  shore 
Saw  brave  Horatius  stand  alone, 

They  would  have  crossed  once  more. 

LV. 

But  with  a  crash  like  thunder 
400       Fell  every  loosened  beam, 

And,  like  a  dam,  the  mighty  wreck 

Lay  right  athwart  the  stream. 
And  a  long  shout  of  triumph 
Rose  from  the  Avails  of  Rome, 
465  As  to  the  highest  turret-tops 

Was  splashed  the  yellow  foam. 

LVI. 

And,  like  a  horse  unbroken 

When  first  he  feels  the  rein, 
The  furious  river  struggled  hard, 
470       And  tossed  his  tawny  '  mane, 
And  burst  the  curb,  and  bounded, 

Rejoicing  to  be  free, 
And  whirling  down  in  fierce  career, 
Battlement,  and  plank,  and  pier, 
4T5       Rushed  headlong  to  the  sea. 

LVII. 

Alone  stood  brave  Horatius, 

But  constant5  still  in  mind; 
Thrice  thirty  thousand  foes  before, 

And  the  broad  flood  behind. 
480  "  Down  with  him!  "  cried  false  Sextus, 

With  a  smile  on  his  pale  face. 
"  Now  yield  thee,1'  cried  Lars  Porsena, 

"  Now  yield  thee  to  our  grace." 

i  See  1.  98.  itrm 


HORATIUS.  131 

LVIII. 

Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 
485       Those  craven1  ranks  to  see; 
Nought  spake  he  to  Lars  Porsena, 

To  Sextus  nought  spake  he; 
But  he  saw  on  Palatinus2 

The  white  porch  of  his  home; 
490  And  he  spake  to  the  noble  river 

That  rolls  by  the  towers  of  Rome. 

LIX. 

"0  Tiber!  father  Tiber ! 3 

To  whom  the  Romans  pray, 
A  Roman's  life,  a  Roman's  arms, 
495       Take  thou  in  charge  this  day!  " 
So  he  spake,  and  speaking  sheathed 

The  good  sword  by  his  side, 
And  with  his  harness  on  his  back, 

Plunged  headlong  in  the  tide. 

LX. 

500  No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow 

Was  heard  from  either  bank; 
But  friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise, 
With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 

Stood  gazing  where  he  sank; 
505  And  when  above  the  surges 

They  saw  his  crest  appear, 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry, 
And  even  the  ranks  of  Tuscany 

Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer. 

1  cowardly,  for  having  been  stopped  so  3  He  thinks  of  the  river  as  a  protecting 

long  by  so  few.  god  ;  so  in  1.  524.     To  the  Romans  it  was 

a  The  Palatine  is  one  of  the  Seven  Hills  Father  Tiber  because  it  had  protected  Rom- 

of  Rome.  ulns  and  Remus  when  exposed  on  its  waters. 


132  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

LXI. 

510  But  fiercely  ran  the  current, 

Swollen  high  by  months  of  rain: 
And  fast  his  blood  was  flowing; 

And  he  was  sore  in  pain, 
And  heavy  with  his  armor, 
515       And  spent '  with  changing  blows: 
And  oft  they  thought  him  sinking, 
But  still  again  he  rose. 


LXII. 

Never,  I  ween,2  did  swimmer, 
In  such  an  evil  case, 
520  Struggle  through  such  a  raging  flood 
Safe  to  the  landing-place: 
But  his  limbs  were  borne  up  bravely 

By  the  brave  heart  within, 
And  our  good  father  Tiber3 
525       Bare  bravely  up  his  chin. 


LXIII. 

"  Curse  on  him!  "  quoth  false  Sextus; 

"  Will  not  the  villain  drown? 
But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day 

We  should  have  sacked  *  the  town!  " 
530  "  Heaven  help  him!  "  quoth  Lars  Porsena/ 

"  And  bring  him  safe  to  shore; 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  of  arms 

Was  never  seen  before." 

>  wearied  out,  his  strength  gone.  6  The  difference  between  the  coward  and 

s  I  think.  the  high-minded  enemy  is  well  brought  out 

'  See  1.  492.  *  pillaged.         in  these  two  speeches. 


HORATIUS.  133 


LXIY. 


And  now  he  feels  the  bottom ; 
535       Now  on  dry  earth  he  stands; 

Now  round  him  throng  the  Fathers 

To  press  his  gory  hands; 
And  now,  with  shouts  and  clapping, 
And  noise  of  weeping  loud, 
540  He  enters  through  the  River-Gate, 
Borne  by  the  joyous  crowd. 


LXT. 

They  gave  him  of  the  corn-land, 
That  was  of  public  right, 

As  much  as  two  strong  oxen 
545       Could  plow  from  morn  till  night; 

And  they  made  a  molten  image, 
And  set  it  up  on  high, 

And  there  it  stands  unto  this  day 
To  witness  if  I  lie. 


LXYI. 

550  It  stands  in  the  Comitium, 
Plain  for  all  folk  to  see; 
Horatius  in  his  harness, 

Halting  upon  one  knee : 
And  underneath  is  written, 
555       In  letters  all  of  gold, 

How  valiantly  he  kept  the  bridge 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

a  that  part  of  the  Forum  used  for  the  assembly  of  the  thirty  Curise. 


134  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

LXVII. 

And  still  his  name  sounds  stirring 
Unto  the  men  of  Rome, 
560  As  the  trumpet-blast  that  cries  to  them 
To  charge  the  Volscian1  home; 
And  wives  still  pray  to  Juno2 
For  boys  with  hearts  as  bold 
As  his  who  kept  the  bridge  so  well 
565       In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

LXVIII. 

And  in  the  nights  of  winter, 

When  the  cold  north  winds  blow, 
And  the  long  howling  of  the  wolves 

Is  heard  amidst  the  snow; 
570  When  round  the  lonely  cottage 

Roars  loud  the  tempest's  din, 
And  the  good  logs  of  Algidus 3 

Roar  louder  yet  within ; 

LXIX. 

When  the  oldest  cask  is  opened, 
575       And  the  largest  lamp  is  lit; 

When  the  chestnuts  glow  in  the  embers, 

And  the  kid  turns  on  the  spit; 
When  young  and  old  in  circle 
Around  the  firebrands  close; 
580  When  the  girls  are  weaving  baskets, 
And  the  lads  are  shaping  bows; 

i  The  Volsci  were  a  people  of   central         2  Ihi-  goddess  of  marriage. 
Italy,  with  whom  the  Romans  in  their  early         3  one  of  the  Alban  Hills,  not  far  from 
days  were  often  at  wai\  Rome. 


HORATIUS.  135 


LXX. 


When  the  goodman  mends  his  armor, 
And  trims  his  helmet's  plume; 

When  the  good  wife's  shuttle  merrily 
585       Goes  flashing  through  the  loom; 

With  weeping  and  with  laughter 
Still  is  the  story  told, 

How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 


THE   VISION  OF  SIR  LAUNFAL. 

Note  by  the  Author. — According  to  the  mythology  of  the  Romartcers, 
the  San  Greal,  or  Holy  Grail,  was  the  cup  out  of  which  Jesus  partook  of 
the  last  supper  with  his  disciples.  It  was  brought  into  England  by 
Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  remained  there,  an  object  of  pilgrimage  and 
adoration,  for  many  years  in  the  keeping  of  his  lineal  descendants.  It 
was  incumbent  upon  those  who  had  charge  of  it  to  be  chaste  in  thought, 
word,  and  deed;  but  one  of  the  keepers  having  broken  this  condition, 
the  Holy  Grail  disappeared.  From  that  time  it  was  a  favorite  enterprise 
of  the  knights  of  Arthur's  court  to  go  in  search  of  it.  Sir  Galahad  was 
at  last  successful  in  finding  it,  as  may  be  read  in  the  seventeenth  book  of 
the  Romance  of  King  Arthur.  Tennyson  has  made  Sir  Galahad  the  sub- 
ject of  one  of  the  most  exquisite  of  his  poems. 

The  plot  (if  I  may  give  that  name  to  any  thing  so  slight)  of  the  follow- 
ing poem  is  my  own,  and,  to  serve  its  purposes,  I  have  enlarged  the 
circle  of  competition  in  search  of  the  mu-aculous  cup  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  include,  not  only  other  persons  than  the  heroes  of  the  Round  Table, 
but  also  a  period  of  time  subsecpient  to  the  date  of  King  Arthur's  reigu. 

Prelude  to  Part  First. 

Over  his  keys  the  musing  organist, 

Beginning  doubtfully  and  far  away, 
First  lets  his  fingers  wander  as  they Jistj 

And  builds  a  bridge  from  Dreamland  for  his  lay: s 
5  Then,  as  the  touch  of  his  loved  instrument 

Gives  hope  and  fervor,  nearer  draws8  his  theme, 
First  guessed  by  faint  auroral3  flushes  sent 

Along  the  wavering  vistajof  his  dream. 


Not  only  around  our  infancy 
10  Doth  heaven  with  all  its  splendors  lie:4 

1  song,  poem.  '  like  the  Aurora  Borealis,  or  Northern 

•  At  first  the  idea  was  vague  and  hulis-  Lights. 

tinet,  like  a  dream.    As  he  goes  on,  the  poet  4  This  refers  to  the  line  in  Wordsworth's 

brings  it  into  fuller  shape  and  more  definite  Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality  : 

outline.  "  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy  !  " 


(ft 


THE   VISION   OF   SIR  LAUNFAL.  137 

Daily,  with  souls  that  cringe  and  plot, 
We  Sinais '  climb  and  know  it  not; 

Over  our  manhood  bend  the  skies; 
Against  our  fallen  and  traitor  lives 
15  The  great  winds  utter  prophecies;2 

With  our  faint  hearts  the  mountain  strives; 
Its  arms  outstretched,  the  druid 3  wood 

Waits  with  its  benedicite,* 
And  to  our  age's  drowsy  blood 
20       Still  shouts  the  inspiring  sea. 

? 
Earth  5  gets  its  price  for  what  Earth  gives  us; 

The  beggar  is  taxed  for  a  corner  to  die  in, 
The  priest  hath  his  fee  who  comes  and  shrives  us; 
We  bargain  for  the  graves  we  lie  in ; 
25  At  the  Devil's  booth  are  all  things  sold,  * 
Each  ounce  of  dross  costs  its  ounce  of  gold; 

For  a  cap  and  bells  our  lives  we  pay, 
Bubbles  we  earn  with  a  whole  soul's  tasking; 
'Tis  heaven  alone  that  is  given  away,  fl| 
30  'Tis  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking; 
There  is  no  price  set  on  the  lavish  summer, 
And  June  may  be  had  by  the  poorest  comer. 

And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days; 
35  Then  Heaven  tries  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  .ear  lays : 

1  Moses  ascended  Mount  Sinai  to  be  with  M  blessing. 

God.    Lowell  me:.'iis  that  we  may  be  and  5  Earthly  things  (of  no  real  value)  we 

are  with  God  everyday  without  knowiM'  it.  must  pay  fur;   heavenly  things  (1.  30)  we 

-he  strong  powers  of  nature  are^pjn-  might   have    for    nothing,   had   we   sense 

s^  reproach  to  our  weak  sinfulness.*  »  enough  to  know  it. 

the  Druids,  priests  of  ancient  Gairl|4d  8  The  word  sold  should  have  the  empha- 

jiain,  worshipped  in  the  great  oak  groves,  sis,  as  contrasted  with  asking  (1.  30). 


138  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Whether  we  look,  or  whether  Ave  listen, 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten; 
Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 
40       An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  grasping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 

Climbs  to  a  soul  for  grass  and  flowers; 
The  flush  of  life  may  well  be  seen 

Thrilling  back  over  hills  and  valleys; 
45  The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green, 

The  buttercup  catches  the  sun  in  its  chalice,1 
And  there's  never  a  leaf  or  a  blade  too  mean 

To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace; 
The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun, 
50       Atilt  like  a  blossom  among  the  leaves, 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 

With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives; 
His  mate  feels  the  eggs  beneath  her  wings, 
And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings; 
55  He  sings  to  the  wide  world,  and  she  to  her  nest." 
In  the  nice  ear  of  Nature  which  song  is  the  best  ? 

Now  is  the  high-tide  of  the  year,  ' 

And  whatever  of  life  hath  ebbed  away 

Comes  flooding  back,  with  a  ripply  cheer, 
60       Into  every  bare  inlet  and  creek  and  bay; 

Now  the  heart  is  so  full  that  a  drop  overfills  it, 

We  are  happy  now  because  God  so  wills  it; 

No  matter  how  barren  the  past  may  have  been, 

'Tis  enough  for  us  now  that  the  leaves  are  green; 
65  We  sit  in  the  warm  shade  and  feel  right  well 

How  the  sap  creeps  up  and  the  blossoms  swell; 

We  may  shut  our  eyes,  but  we  cannot  help  knowing 

That  skies  are  clear  and  grass  is  growing; 

1  cup.  bird :  still,  it  may  have  its  own  <'x<ine 

5  We  do  not  hear  the  song  of  the  female     fineness,  for  all  that. 

\ 


THE   VISION   OF   SIR  LAUNFAL.  139 

The  breeze  comes  whispering  in  our  ear, 
70  That  dandelions  are  blossoming  near, 

That  maize  ]  has  sprouted,  that  streams  are  flowing, 

That  the  river  is  bluer  than  the  sky, 

That  the  robin  is  plastering  his  house  hard  by; 

And  if  the  breeze  kept  the  good  news  back, 
75  For  other  couriers  we  should  not  lack ; 

We  could  guess  it  all  by  yon  heifer's  lowing, — 

And  hark !  how  clear  bold  chanticleer,3 

Warmed  with  the  new  wine  of  the  year, 

Tells  all  in  his  lusty  crowing! 

80  Joy  comes,  grief  goes,  we  know  not  how; 
Everything  is  happy  now, 

Everything  is  upward  striving; 
'Tis  as  easy  now  for  the  heart  to  be  true 
As  for  the  grass  to  be  green  or  skies  to  be  blue, — 
85       'Tis  the  natural  way  of  living: 

Who  knows  whither  the  clouds  have  fled  ? 

In  the  unscarred  heaven  they  leave  no  wake; 
And  the  eyes  forget  the  tears  they  have  shed, 
The  heart  forgets  its  sorrow  and  ache; 
90  The  soul  partakes  the  season's  youth, 

And  the  sulphurous  rifts  of  passion  and  woe 
Lie  deep  'neath  a  silence  pure  and  smooth, 
Like  burnt-out  craters  healed  with  snow. 
What  wonder  if  Sir  Launfal  now 
95  Eemembered  the  keeping  of  his  vow  ? 3 

-< 

J  the  Indian  corn.  3  Lines   80-95  give   the    connection   be- 

J  the  barnyard  cock.  tween  the  Prelude  and  Part  First. 


140  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 


Part  First. 


"  My  golden  spurs l  now  bring  to  me, 
And  bring  to  me  my  richest  mail,2 

For  to-morrow  I  go  over  land  and  sea 
In  search  of  the  Holy  Grail; 
100  Shall  never  a  bed  for  me  be  spread, 

Nor  shall  a  pillow  be  under  my  head, 

Till  I  begin  my  vow  to  keep; 

Here  on  the  rushes 3  will  I  sleep, 

And  perchance  there  may  come  a  vision  true 
105  Ere  day  create  the  world  anew." 

Slowly  Sir  Launfal's  eyes  grew  dim, 
Slumber  fell  like  a  cloud  on  him, 

And  into  his  soul  the  vision  flew.4 


II. 

The  crows  flapped  over  by  twos  and  threes, 
110  In  the  pool  drowsed  the  cattle  up  to  their  knees, 
The  little  birds  sang  as  if  it  were 
The  one  day  of  summer  in  all  the  year, 

And  the  very  leaves  seemed  to  sing  on  the  trees: 

The  castle  alone  in  the  landscape  lay 
115  Like  an  outpost  of  winter,  dull  and  gray; 

"I'was  the  proudest  hall  in  the  North  Countree,5 

And  never  its  gates  might  opened  be, 

Save  to  lord  or  lady  of  high  degree; 

>  Golden  spurs  were  the  symbol  of  knight-  *  The  "  Vision  "  really  begins  with  1.  109 

hood.    When  a  knight  disgraced  himself  and  ends  at  1.  887.    What  has  gone  before 

his  golden  spurs  were  hacked  off  his  heels  has  been  introductory, 

by  the  cook's  cleaver.                  *  See  1.  181.  5  northern  England  presumably  ;  the  form 

3  The  floors  in  old  times  were  strewn  witli  of  the  word  is  common  in  older  English, 

rushes.  and  esi>ecially  in  ballad-poetry. 


THE   VISION   OF   SIR  LAUNFAL.  141 

Summer  besieged  it  on  every  side, 
120  But  the  churlish  '  stone  her  assaults  defied; 

She  could  not  scale  the  chill}7  wall, 

Though  round  it  for  leagues  her  pavilions 2  tall 

Stretched  left  and  right, 

Over  the  hills  and  out  of  sight; 
125       Green  and  broad  was  every  tent, 
And  out  of  each  a  murmur  went 

Till  the  breeze  fell  off  at  night. 

in. 

The  drawbridge  dropped  with  a  surly  clang, 

And  through  the  dark  arch  3  a  charger  sprang, 
130  Bearing  Sir  Launfal,  the  maiden4  knight, 

In  his  gilded  mail,  that  flamed  so  bright 

It  seemed  the  dark  castle  had  gathered  all 

Those  shafts  the  fierce  sun  had  shot  over  its  wall 
In  his  siege6  of  three  hundred  summers  long, 
135  And,  binding  them  all  in  one  blazing  sheaf,6 
Had  cast  them  forth ;  so,  young  and  strong, 

And  lightsome  as  a  locust  leaf, 

Sir  Launfal  flashed  forth  in  his  unscarred 7  mail, 

To  seek  in  all  climes  for  the  Holy  Grail.8 

IV. 

140  It  was  morning  on  hill  and  stream  and  tree, 
And  morning  in  the  young  knight's  heart; 

Only  the  castle  moodily 

Rebuffed  the  gifts  of  the  sunshine  free, 
And  gloomed  by  itself  apart; 

1  rude,  like  a  churl  or  rude,  ill-mannered  B  See  11.  119-127. 

fellow.  6  eheaf,  or  quiver  of  arrows. 

3  Summer  i6  represented  as  an  army  en-  7  See  1.  130. 

camped  in  tents  ;  so  in  1. 125.  8  See  the  introductory  Note  by  the  Atr- 

3  of  the  castle  gateway.  thor,  and  11.  253,  293,  315,  353.    One  of  the 

4  He  has  as  yet  done  no  service  ;  his  armor  Idylls  of  the  King  tells  how  the  Round 
was  unscarred  by  battle  (1.  138).  Table  sought  the  Holy  Grail. 


142  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

145  The  season  brimmed  all  other  things  up 
Full  as  the  rain  fills  the  pitcher-plant's  cup. 


As  Sir  Launfal  made  morn '  through  the  darksome  gate, 
He  was  'ware  of  a  leper 2  crouched  by  the  same, 

Who  begged  with  his  hand  and  moaned  as  he  sate; 
150      And  a  loathing  over  Sir  Launfal  came; 

The  sunshine  went  out  of  his  soul  with  a  thrill, 
The  flesh  'neath  his  armor  did  shrink  and  crawl, 

And  midway 3  its  leap  his  heart  stood  still 
Like  a  frozen  waterfall; 
155  For  this  man,  so  foul  and  bent  of  stature, 

Rasped  harshly  against  his  dainty  nature, 

And  seemed  the  one  blot  on  the  summer  morn,* — 

So  he  tossed  him  a  piece  of  gold  in  scorn. 


VI. 

The  leper  raised  not  the  gold  from  the  dust: 
1G0  "  Better  to  me  the  poor  man's  crust, 

Better  the  blessing  of  the  poor, 

Though  I  turn  me  empty  from  his  door; 

That  is  no  true  alms  which  the  hand  can  hold;5 

He  gives  nothing  but  worthless  gold 
1G5       WTho  gives  from  a  sense  of  duty; 

But  he  who  gives  a  slender  mite, 

And  gives  to  that  which  is  out  of  sight, 
That  thread  of  the  all-sustaining  Beauty 

Which  runs  through  all  and  doth  all  unite, — 

»  with  his  golden  armor.  4  Sir  Launfal,  enjoying  the  glad  beauty 

>  The  hideous  disease  of  leprosy  was  com-  of  spring,  was  shocked  and  pained  at  the 

iiioii  in  the  Middle  Ages.  hideous  sight,  and  tried  to  get  rid  of  it  as 

'  in  the  midst  of.  quickly  as  possible.                     6  See  1.  170. 


THE    VISION   OF   SIR   LAUNFAL.  143 

170  The  hand  cannot  clasp  the  whole  of  his  alms, 
The  heart  outstretches  its  eager  palms, 
For  a  god  goes  with  it  and  makes  it  store 
To  the  soul  that  was  starving  in  darkness  before." 


Prelude  to  Part  Second. 

Down  swept  the  chill  wind  from  the  mountain  peak, 
175       From  the  snow  five  thousand  summers  '  old; 

On  open  wold 2  and  hill-top  bleak 
It  had  gathered  all  the  cold, 

And  whirled  it  like  sleet  on  the  wanderer's  cheek; 

It  carried  a  shiver  everywhere 
180  From  the  unleafed  boughs  aVd  pastures  bare; 

The  little  brook  heard  it  and  built  a  roof 

'Neath  which  he  could  house  him,  winter-proof; 

All  night  by  the  white  stars'  frosty  gleams 

He  groined  3  his  arches  and  matched  his  beams; 
185  Slender  aud  clear  were  his  crystal  spars 

As  the  lashes  of  light  that  trim  the  stars; 

He  sculptured  every  summer  delight 

In  his  halls  and  chambers  out  of  sight; 

Sometimes  his  tinkling  waters  slipt 
190  Down  through  a  frost-leaved  forest-crypt,4 

Long,  sparkling  aisles  of  steel-stemmed  trees 

Bending  to  counterfeit  a  breeze; 

Sometimes  the  roof  no  fretwork  knew 

But  silvery  mosses  that  downward  grew; 5 
195  Sometimes  it  was  carved  in  sharp  relief 

With  quaint  arabesques6  of  ice-fern  leaf; 

1  The  enow  never  melted,  even  in  the  *  crypt  because  it  was  down  underneath, 

hottest  summer.  as  if  in  the  cellar  ;  forest  because  the  ice 

"  open  field-like  country.  froze  in  form  of  trees. 

U  "groin"  is  made  by  four  arching  6  like  stalactites, 

sides  coming  together.  6  intricate  and  complicated  patterns. 


144  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

Sometimes  it  was  simply  smooth  and  clear 

For  the  gladness  of  heaven  to  shine  through,  and  here 

He  had  caught  the  nodding  bulrush-tops 
200  And  hung  them  thickly  with  diamond  drops, 

Which  crystalled  the  beams  of  moon  and  sun, 

And  made  a  star  of  every  one: 

No  mortal  builder's  most  rare  device 

Could  match  this  winter-palace  of  ice; 
205  'Twas  as  if  every  image  that  mirrored  lay 

In  his  depths  serene  through  the  summer  day, 

Each  flitting  shadow  of  earth  and  sky, 
Lest  the  happy  model  should  be  lost, 

Had  been  mimicked  in  fairy  masonry 
210       By  the  elfin  builders  of  the  frost.1 

Within  the  hall  are  song  and  laughter, 

The  cheeks  of  Christmas  glow  red  and  jolly, 
And  sprouting  is  every  corbel5  and  rafter 

With  the  lightsome  green  of  ivy  and  holly; 
215  Through  the  deep  gulf  of  the  chimney  wide 
Wallows  the  Yule-log's3  roaring  tide; 4 
The  broad  flame-pennons  droop  and  flap 

And  belly  and  tug  as  a  flag  in  the  wind; 
Like  a  locust  shrills  the  imprisoned  sap,6 
220       Hunted  to  death  in  its  galleries  blind; 
And  swift  little  troops  of  silent  sparks, 

Now  pausing,  now  scattering  away  as  in  fear, 
Go  threading  the  soot-forest's  tangled  darks 

Like  herds  of  startled  deer. 


1  This  charming  passage  is  delightful  in  s  The  "Yule-log"  is  the  great  log  brought 

itself,  but  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  any  in  on  Christmas  eve. 

especial  connection  with  the  rest  of   the  4  The  roaring  flame  is  compared  to  the 

poem.    Lowell  wrote  it  because  he  liked  to.  tide  setting  into  the  deep  gulf  (of  the  chim- 

'  Corbel  is  the  architectural  term  for  the  ney). 

end  of  a  rafter.  *  in  the  logs. 


THE   VISION  OF  SIR   LAUNFAL.  145 

i 
225  But  the  wind  without  was  eager 1  and  sharp, 
Of  Sir  LaunfaFs  gray2  hair  it  makes  a  harp, 
And  rattles  and  wrings 
The  icy  strings, 
Singing,  in  dreary  monotone, 
230  A  Christmas  carol  of  its  own, 

Whose  burden  still,  as  he  might  guess, 
Was — "Shelterless,  shelterless,  shelterless!" 
The  voice  of  the  seneschal  flared  like  a  torch 
As  he  shouted  the  wanderer  away  from  the  porch,3 
235  And  he  sat  down  in  the  gateway  and  saw  all  night 
The  great  hall-fire,  so  cheery  and  bold, 
Through  the  window-slits  of  the  castle  old, 
Build  out  its  piers  of  ruddy  light4 
Against  the  drift  of  the  cold. 


Part  Second. 


240  There  was  never  a  leaf  on  bush  or  tree, 

The  bare  boughs  rattled  shudderingly; 

The  river,  was  dumb  and  could  not  speak, 

For  the  frost's  swift  shuttles  its  shroud  had  spun; ' 

A  single  crow  on  the  tree-top  bleak 
245       From  his  shining  feathers  shed  off  the  cold  sun; 

Again  it  was  morning,  but  shrunk  and  cold, 

As  if  her  veins  were  sapless  and  old, 

And  she  rose  up  decrepitly 

For  a  last  dim  look  at  earth  and  sea. 

1  Eager  originally  meant  much  the  same  4  Try  to  realize  this  figure— the  light  from 

as  sharp.    So  in  the  word  vinegar.  the  narrow  window  shining  into  the  thick 

a  Thus  Lowell  gives  us  the  idea  that  after  darkness— and  you  will  see  how  excellent 

long  years  Sir  Launfal  has  come  back.    As  it  is. 

is  soon  seen,  he  has  long  been  given  up  for  5  The  ice  on  the  brook  is  now  compared 

lost  and  wholly  forgotten.    Seel.  251.  to  its  shroud,  as  though  it  were  not  only 

8  See  1.  250.  dumb,  but  dead. 
10 


146  POEMS   OF    KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

II. 

250  Sir  Launfal  turned  from  his  own  hard  gate, 

For  another  heir  in  his  earldom  sate; ' 

An  old,  bent  man,  worn  out  and  frail. 

He  came  back  from  seeking  the  Holy  Grail ; 

Little  he  recked  of  his  earldom's  loss, 
255  No  more  on  his  surcoat  was  blazoned  the  cross, 

But  deep  in  his  soul  the  sign  he  wore, 

The  badge  of  the  suffering  and  the  poor. 

in. 

Sir  Launfal's  raiment  thin  and  spar 

Was  idle  mail  'gainst  the  barbed  air, 
260  For  it  was  just  at  the  Christmas-time; 

So  he  mused,  as  he  sat,  of  a  sunnier  clime. 

And  sought  for  a  shelter  from  cold  and  snow 

In  the  light  and  warmth  of  long  ago; 2 

He  sees  the  snake-like  caravan  crawl 3 
265  O'er  the  edge  of  the  desert,  black  and  small, 

Then  nearer  and  nearer,  till,  one  by  one, 

He  can  count  the  camels  in  the  sun, 

As  over  the  red-hot  sands  they  pass 

To  where,  in  its  slender  necklace  of  grass, 
270  The  little  spring  laughed  and  leapt  in  the  shade. 

And  with  its  own  self  like  an  infant  played, 

And  waved  its  signal  of  palms. 

IV. 

"  For  Christ's  sweet  sake,  I  beg  an4  alms;  " 
The  happy  camels  may  reach  the  spring, 
275  But  Sir  Launfal  sees  naught  save  the  grewsome  thing, 

1  He  had  been  so  long  away  that  he  had  3  nis  thoughts  went  back  to  the  Holy 

been  given  up  as  dead.  Land. 

•  "O,  wlio  can  hold  a  fire  in  his  hand  *  The  word  alms  is  really  singular,  in 

Hy  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus  ?  "  gpj(e  0f  t^c  s 
— RiciiAiti)  II.,  i,  8,  894. 


THE   VISION   OF   SIR   LAUNFAL.  14i 

The  leper,  lank  as  the  rain-blanched  bone, 
That  cowered  beside  him,  a  thing  as  lone 
And  white  as  the  ice-isles  of  Northern  seas l 
In  the  desolate  horror  of  his  disease. 


280  And  Sir  Lannfal  said, — "  I  behold  in  thee 
An  image  of  Him  who  died  on  the  tree; a 
Thou  also  hast  had  thy  crown  of  thorns, — 
Thou  also  hast  had  the  world's  buffets  and  scorns, — 
And  to  thy  life  were  not  denied 

285  The  wounds  in  the  hands  and  feet  and  side; 
Mild  Mary's  Son,  acknowledge3  me; 
Behold,  through  him,  I  give  to  thee!  " 

VI. 

Then  the  soul  of  the  leper  stood  up  in  his  eyes 
And  looked  at  Sir  Lannfal,  and  straightway  he 
290  Remembered  in  what  a  haughtier  guise 
He  had  flung  an  alms  to  leprosie, 
When  he  caged  4  his  young  life  up  in  gilded  mail 
And  set  forth  in  search  of  the  Holy  Grail, 
The  heart  within  him  was  ashes  and  dust; 
295  He  parted  in  twain  his  single  crust, 

He  broke  the  ice  on  the  streamlet's  brink, 
And  gave  the  leper  to  eat  and  drink; 
'Twas  a  moldy  crust  of  coarse  brown  bread, 
'Twas  water  out  of  a  wooden  bowl, — 
300  Yet  with  fine  wheaten  bread  was  the  leper  fed. 

And  'twas  red  wine  he  drank  with  his  thirsty  soul. 

1  One  sign  of  leprosy  was  a  horrible  pale-     also  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.*' 
ness.  —Matt.  x.  32. 

2  the  cross.  4  gave  himself  no  opportunity  to  do  as  his 
'  "  Whosoever  therefore  shall  acknowl-     best  impulses  might  urge  him,  but  tried  to 

edge  me  before  men,  him  will  I  acknowledge     do  some  deed  of  splendid  devotion. 


148  POEMS   OF   KNIGHTLY   ADVENTURE. 

'  VII. 

As  Sir  Launfal  mused  with  a  downcast  face, 
A  light  shone  round  about  the  place; 
The  leper  no  longer  crouched  at  his  side, 
305  But  stood  before  him  glorified, 

Shining  and  tall  and  fair  and  straight 

As  the  pillar  that  stood  by  the  Beautiful  Gate,1- 

Himself  the  Gate 2  whereby  men  can 

Enter  the  temple  of  God  in  Man." 


VIII. 

310  His  words  were  shed  softer  than  leaves  from  the  pine, 
And  they  fell  on  Sir  Launfal  as  snows  on  the  brine,4 
Which  mingle  their  softness  and  quiet  in  one 
With  the  shaggy  unrest  they  float  down  upon ; 
And  the  voice  that  was  calmer  than  silence  said,  w 

315       ^o,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid! 
In  many  climes,  without  avail, 
Thou  hast  spent  thy  life  for  the  Holy  Grail; 
Behold  it  is  here, — this  cup  which  thou 
Didst  fill  at  the  streamlet  for  me  but  now; 

320  This  crust  is  my  body  broken  for  thee, 

This  water  His  blood  that  died  on  the  tree; 
The  Holy  Supper  is  kept,  indeed, 
In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need, — 
Not  that  which  we  give,  but  what  we  share, — 

325  | For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare; 


Who  bestows  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three,— 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  me." 


>  See  Acts  iii.  2.  J  See  1  Cor.  iii.  16,  17. 

»  See  John  s.  7.  *  as  enow  falling  into  the  sea. 


THE   VISION   OF   SIR   LAUNFAL.  149 


IX. 


Sir  Launfal  awoke,1  as  from  a  swound: — 
';  The  Grail  in  my  castle  here  is  found! 
330  Hang  my  idle  armor  up  on  the  wall, 
Let  it  be  the  spider's  banquet-hall; 
He  must  be  fenced  with  stronger  mail 
Who  would  seek  and  find  the  Holy  Grail." 


x. 

The  castle-gate  stands  open  now,' 
335       And  the  wanderer  is  welcome  to  the  hall 

As  the  hangbird  is  to  the  elm-tree  bough ; 
No  longer  scowl  the  turrets  tall, 

The  Summer's  long  siege  at  last  is  o'er; 3 

When  the  first  poor  outcast  went  in  at  the  door, 
340  She  entered  with  him  in  disguise, 

And  mastered  the  fortress  by  surprise; 

There  is  no  spot  she  loves  so  well  on  ground, 

She  lingers  and  smiles  there  the  whole  year  round; 

The  meanest  serf  on  Sir  Launfal' s  land 
345  Has  hall  and  bower 4  at  his  command ; 

And  there's  no  poor  man  in  the  North  Countree 

But  is  lord  of  the  earldom  as  much  as  he. 

1  The  story  goes  back  to  Sir  Launfal  on         3  See  1.  119. 
the  rushes  (1. 108).  *  The  word  was  commonly  enough  used 

a  not  as  in  the  "  Vision  "  (1.  117).  in  the  ballads  for  chambers. 


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